Marauders Redux
by jncar
Summary: Evenings with Nymphadora and Bill make Remus and Sirius feel 20 years younger, until Remus' growing attraction to Tonks reminds him of his true age. He must decide what to do when his new friends' give Sirius a dangerous surprise for his birthday.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts," Remus finished softly, with a small smile on his face, closing the large volume of Shakespeare in his lap. Nymphadora smiled up at him from her cozy seat, snuggled at his side on the cushy sofa in the parlor of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, before he turned away to look back down at the book.

"I didn't like it as much as the last one we read," she said. "It was funny, but I just can't forgive Helena for loving a man so deeply undeserving as Bertram."

"I don't think we were supposed to forgive her," replied Remus. "I think we were supposed to laugh at her."

"Well, we did that, I suppose," she said. Nymphadora looked down from his face, and gradually scooted out of the close proximity that had been necessary for them to share the book. The vanilla-spice scent of her perfume still filled his nose, and he found himself oddly wishing that the feeling of her body leaning against his could have continued for just a little longer.

Nymphadora cleared her throat, and looked up at him to say, "We need to talk, Remus."

That didn't sound good. "All right," he said, trying to sound chipper. "What is it?"

She looked at him seriously for a moment more, before answering, "What would you say if I told you that I knew someone who was interested in you?"

"Interested in me?" he answered blankly.

"Romantically," she said, rolling her eyes. "You really are hopeless, you know."

Remus, in the meantime, had started staring off into space before him, tapping his foot restively. This was not what he had expected at all. "This isn't a hypothetical question, is it?"

She shook her head. "No, I really do know someone who's interested in you." Her wide, silly grin made him extremely nervous.

Remus shifted uncomfortably, glancing frantically around the room. He wasn't sure quite what he was looking for, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to look at Nymphadora. "Well," he said, "I think maybe you should talk to your—acquaintance—for me. You should tell her that I can't get involved with anyone right now. I just … don't have room in my life for that."

"So you can fit in wizard chess tournaments with Bill and Sirius, and long evenings reading Shakespeare with me, but not romance?" Nymphadora asked, folding her arms crossly.

"That's right."

"Why not?"

He hated this topic, but Nymphadora seemed determined to talk it through. And he knew better by now than to try to stop her when she was determined to do something. He could feel a headache coming on. "Because…" he fumbled for an adequate response, "Just because! It's just not something that fits in my life right now."

"So when was the last time you made room in your life for romance, Remus?" she asked.

"Why are you so interested?"

"Just answer the question."

He sat still, thinking. "More than ten years, now," he answered sheepishly.

"Would you care to explain why?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Remus slumped back in resignation. She was going to ferret it out of him, one way or another, so he might as well just tell her the truth. "I tried having romantic relationships when I was younger. But I found that—that those sorts of things just don't work out for people with my condition."

Nymphadora scowled at him. Tonight's short curly blonde hair and full cheeks made her look like a child pouting when her parents wouldn't buy her the toy she wanted. Remus couldn't help but smile a little at the image.

"You're blaming the lycanthropy, are you?" she asked.

"Yes—yes I am."

"So werewolves aren't allowed to have romantic relationships?" she asked.

"Of course we're allowed to try," he began, "they just don't usually work out."

"Why not?"

"I thought you were an intelligent woman, Nymphadora. Why do you think they don't work out?" He was growing a bit irritated with this line of questioning.

She rolled her eyes at him, and shook her head. "I know what you would say, but I'm not sure I'd agree with you."

"Let's find out, shall we?" he said. "Do you agree that werewolves are more likely than other wizards to suffer unemployment and poverty?"

"Yes."

"And do you agree that werewolves are more likely than average wizards to suffer frequent injuries, requiring the copious use of healing potions and salves which further drain their already meager financial resources?"

"Yes."

"Well then, do you agree that werewolves pose a significant danger to their loved ones, like spouses and children?"

"No, I don't."

"Finally, we find our source of disagreement," he said. "So, what makes you think the loved ones of a werewolf would be safe from the threat of attack?"

"Wolfsbane Potion, for one," she said.

"Another significant drain on already strained finances. Do you have any idea how much properly brewed Wolfsbane Potion costs?" he asked.

"I've never looked into it," she admitted.

"More than I can afford," he stated flatly. "Didn't you ever wonder why I don't use it?"

"I have wondered. I suppose I thought there must be some side effect you didn't like, or something," she said.

"The only side effect I don't like is the way it drains my bank vault every month. Once Umbridge pushed through her anti-werewolf legislation, I discovered that I could no longer find any work that would pay enough to justify the expense of the potion, so I gave it up." He rubbed his head. His headache was getting worse. How had a pleasant evening with a friend turned into this depressing interrogation?

"Do you really transform in a cage every month?" she asked in a small, sad voice.

"Yes," he said. "My parents had it installed in the basement of our house when I was a boy. It was the only way to keep them safe. Which is exactly the point I was trying to make—what woman would want to be with a man she has to lock in a cage once a month, in order to keep him from attacking her?"

A sly smile spread across her face. "I don't know—it sounds like fun to me."

He glared at her.

She started to laugh.

He shook his head in exasperation. "Really, Nymphadora. You should tell your friend I'm not interested."

"So what were your reasons again?" she asked, still laughing.

"Shall I summarize them for you?" he asked, smiling back. The sound of her laughter always cheered him up.

"Please do."

He started ticking them off on his fingers. "One, poverty—never an attractive quality in a mate. Two, danger to the lives and limbs of the people I care about. Three, I'm too damn old and tired to keep fighting a losing battle."

"I still think, if you really cared about someone and she really cared about you back, that you could find a way to make it work," she said seriously.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I'm afraid I will have to respectfully disagree," he said.

Nymphadora rolled her eyes at him. "Don't you even want to know who it is?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I think I have a pretty good idea—and that's the fourth reason I can't get involved right now. I'm not interested in her."

"Is that so?" answered Nymphadora, coldly.

"Yes, it is," said Remus. "Ginny was trying to set me up with Hestia all summer, and I just couldn't convince her that I wasn't interested."

"You think I'm talking about Hestia?" asked Nymphadora incredulously.

Remus looked at her, baffled. "Well, yes," he said. "You aren't?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not," she said, smugly lifting her chin in the air.

"Then who are you talking about?" he asked.

She smirked at him. "So you want to know after all, do you?"

"Yes…maybe. Not that it would change my opinion on the matter. But now you've gone and piqued my curiosity."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Well, too bad," she said. "I don't feel like telling you anymore."

"Nymphadora! Really …"

"No," she said, standing up. "Not going to tell you. You'll have to figure it out on your own." She stalked toward the door.

"You won't even give me a hint?" he called after her.

She turned back to glare at him. "Hopeless," she said mournfully, shaking her head. "Absolutely hopeless." And then she was gone—only the lingering scent of vanilla and spice remained.

Remus sank back into the couch with a sigh. He shouldn't waste his time thinking about it. It wasn't worth the effort. She was probably just teasing him. And even if she wasn't, it was probably someone he didn't even like. But maybe …

Just in case, he began mentally reviewing the list of all unattached women whom both he and Nymphadora knew well. The list wasn't very long. And he couldn't fathom which of the possible candidates might be harboring a secret passion for him. He sat there for a long time, staring into the fire, pondering the possibilities.


	2. Present and Past

Chapter 1: Present and Past

It was a brisk evening, the last Saturday of November. Remus sat at the desk in the parlor of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, his quill poised over the parchment before him, his eyes flicking back and forth between several open books. Just as he was about to put his quill to the parchment and write, his concentration was broken by the sound of a loud _thunk_, a voice crying "No!" and a noisy squirting sound vaguely reminiscent of an unsavory bodily emission. The whole exchange was followed by gales of laughter.

Remus smiled, and turned around to see Bill Weasley's grimacing face dripping with nasty-smelling green gunk. Next to him Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius Black laughing heartily at the mess. It seemed that Bill had just lost their Gobstone tournament.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Bill, wiping the green sludge from his eyes. "You just had to go and fill your set with the worst smelling Gobstone Goo you could find, didn't you?"

"Well what's the fun in using the pretty-smelling Goo? I don't know why they even make the stuff. Everyone knows a Gobstone loser has to smell horrid—its part of the game," retorted Nymphadora, running a hand through her short black and purple hair. "Anyway, I gave you fair warning: If you play against the best, you'll get slimed like the rest!"

Bill pulled out his wand, and charmed away the rest of the Goo. "You're hardly the best, Tonks. I was just distracted—that's all."

"Excuses, excuses. What would your Mother say, Bill?" said Sirius, shaking his head.

"Don't you start in on me too, Bill! Tonks slimed you in less than half the time it took to slime me!" said Bill. "Besides—I really was distracted. All that quill scratching was giving a me headache, Remus," he said, glaring back at Remus.

"This from a bloke who works in a room full of quill-scratching goblins all day long. You must spend half your wages on headache-banishing potions," said Remus with a grin.

"Give the work a rest for a while, Remus. Get over here and see how long it takes Tonks to slime you," called Bill.

"I'm trying to finish this chapter tonight," answered Remus.

"No excuses, Moony," said Sirius. "We've each taken our turns letting my little cousin slime us. You're next in line. Emmeline will just have to wait a little longer for your scratchings to be done."

Emmeline Vance, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was also the Vice-President of the largest wizard publishing house in England. A few weeks earlie she had offered Remus some freelance work translating a series of books on magical creatures from its original German. Remus had done a number of freelance jobs for Emmeline over the years, both in translation and in copyediting. But this was the first work she had sent him since the Umbridge Werewolf Restriction Laws were passed. She was risking her position by giving him the work, and he was determined not to let her down by doing a shoddy job, or missing his deadlines.

"Really, Sirius," he said. "My deadline is in five days. I need to keep working on this."

"Now Remus," Nymphadora began, smiling sweetly at him, "I think we all know that if you were really serious about working all night, you would have taken your books up to your room to work. I think—and I'll hazard a guess that my boys here would agree—that you're just trying to worm your way out of getting slimed. What do you think, boys?"

Both Sirius and Bill began nodding enthusiastically. "She's spot on, Moony," said Sirius.

"You better listen to the lady, Remus," said Bill.

Remus smiled. He couldn't deny the truth. When Bill and Nymphadora were both over, he just couldn't stay away. When the four of them got together he almost felt like he was back in the good old days at Hogwarts with his old gang of friends. Tonight, like many nights before it, felt deeply familiar. Just like the hundreds of nights in his dormitory when he would sit scratching away at an essay, while James, Sirius and Peter would play wizard chess or Exploding Snap.

"All right, all right," he admitted with a grin. "I'll take my turn."

Nymphadora squealed with delight, and clapped her hands. "Another victim!" she cried.

Remus joined them on the floor around the coffee table, and they began to reset the game pieces.

A mere thirty minutes later, Remus found himself covered with foul-smelling green Gobstone Goo. But he could be proud of one thing—he had outlasted Sirius by close to fifteen minutes, and had only come short of Bill's tenure by one or two minutes. "Woo-hoo!" shouted Nymphadora, leaping to her feet. "I am the champion!" She started doing a bouncy victory dance around the room. Remus forced himself to look away—when she did that dance of hers, certain areas of her body drew far too much attention to themselves, and one wasn't supposed to ogle one's friends.

Remus pointed his wand at himself and evaporated the Goo. "Too bad I haven't figured out how to make the Goo impossible to charm away," said Nymphadora. "It would have been fun to see the three of you lined up, dripping with Gobstone Goo. It would have been a perfect photo opportunity."

"Sorry to deprive you of your scrapbook moment, Tonks," said Sirius cheerily. "Up for a rematch?"

She shook her head. "No—I have my guard-duty night shift tomorrow. I'd best get home and get some sleep."

Sirius growled, "You just don't want to wear any of that slime yourself."

"Hah! Like you could beat me!" she retorted.

"Let's find out, then," he said.

"Gladly," she replied. "But not until Monday."

Sirius continued to grumble as she packed up her Gobstone set. "Goodnight, all," she called, heading out of the room. Sirius and Bill waved goodbye to her, pulling out an old wizard chess set. Remus followed her, and no one seemed surprised.

He wasn't sure when he had gotten into the habit of walking her to the door every time she left, but it had been going on for almost as long as they had known each other. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our Tuesday dinner, Nymphadora," he said, as they approached the front door.

"Why?" she asked. "Is that deadline really worrying you?"

He nodded. "I want to get the translation in early, if I can. Prove that I can handle anything they can give me."

She nodded. "It's good to see you working. I don't think I've seen you happier than the night you walked in, announcing that your free-loading days were over. Do you think Emmeline will be able to get you more work, after this job is done?"

"I think so," he replied. "She hinted that if my job was sufficiently impressive, her associates would be less wary of outsourcing to a werewolf."

Nymphadora frowned. "That damned Umbridge. First she screws up your life, and now she's mucking up Hogwarts!"

"Don't get me started." Remus frowned. "I don't have the energy to get angry tonight."

"I'm sorry," she said, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "I had lunch with Arthur today, and he told me some more of the horror stories that his kids are sending home about her. How are we ever going to be ready for You-Know-Who with people like her in power?"

He put his hand over hers, and looked into her eyes. "Patience," he said. "Patience and tenacity. We'll come out ahead, in the end. It's only a matter of time."

She smiled up at him. "At least your envoy missions are going well. There are times when it seems the international wizarding community is taking You-Know-Who's threat far more seriously than our own Ministry. Thanks to you and Dumbledore."

"We do our best," he replied.

"When are you leaving for Belgium?" she asked.

"Next Thursday, right after my deadline."

"So will we miss two Tuesdays in a row?" She looked disappointed. Their Tuesday night dinners had been a tradition ever since Remus had started a regular Tuesday guard shift outside the Department of Mysteries. When he was done with his guard shift, and she was done with her job at the Ministry, they would meet outside the entrance to go and explore the local cuisine. They had only missed three Tuesdays in the four months since the guard duty began.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry, Nymphadora," he said. "I promise, I'll make it up to you when I get back."

She suddenly got a very alarming twinkle in her eye—the same sort of twinkle Sirius always used to get when he was about to pull off a great prank. "I'll hold you to that," she said with an impish smile.

"Why am I suddenly frightened?" Remus asked with an answering smile.

"Because you know me," she said with a laugh. "So when will you be back?"

"A week next Wednesday, just in time for the full moon. So I won't really be back until the Friday or Saturday after."

"Can I come and help you with your transformation this month?" she asked. This was not an unexpected question—she had asked it every month since he first told her he was a werewolf.

He shook his head. "You know it's a private thing for me."

"You let that nutter who rents your ground floor flat help you out."

"That's different," said Remus. "Toddy Macnair is a trained expert in the field of Dark Creatures."

"He's an exterminator, Remus," Nymphadora stated flatly.

"He knows what to expect each month. And I give him a discount on his flat for helping me. If my friends started taking over, I'd have to charge him full rent, and then he might move out, and I'd lose my only stable tenant. Then where would I be?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she muttered.

To change the subject, Remus said, "Sirius' birthday is coming up, you know."

"I do know," she said, her eyes lighting up again. He loved how she looked when she was excited about something—no matter what guise she had morphed into, she always had that same glowing expression. "Bill and I already have something brewing for it."

"What do you mean by that?"

She gave him a sly look. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, dear," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh dear what?"

"Well, if you two are putting together a birthday surprise for him, and you aren't letting me in on it, then it probably means that it's something I won't approve of."

"Oh, stop sounding like a Professor!" she retorted. "I just think that both of you deserve a fun surprise, that's all."

"Can I have a hint?"

"No—I don't want to ruin it! But don't plan anything for the night of the sixth," she said.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. "That's two days before his birthday."

She grinned. "I know. That's what makes it such a good surprise."

Remus folded his arms, and leaned against the doorframe. "Now I won't be able to think about anything else for the next two weeks," he said.

"I'm always happy to be in your thoughts, Remus," she said, patting his cheek. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," he replied. She left, closing the front door behind her.

An hour later, after Bill left, Remus and Sirius relaxed in the kitchen with a bottle of wine. As Sirius sipped his wine, he gave Remus a thoughtful look, and said, "Moony—when Tonks and Bill are over, do you ever feel like we're the Marauders all over again?"

Remus was amazed at how closely Sirius' thoughts echoed his own musings from earlier that evening. "I do, Padfoot. I was thinking that tonight reminded me of all those nights back in our dormitory at Hogwarts."

Sirius smiled, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "So if I'm still me, and you're still you," he said. "Then who are Tonks and Bill? Marauders-wise?"

Remus swirled his wine pensively in his glass. He didn't think either of his new friends were direct substitutes for his old—but if he had to choose… "Bill's a lot like James, at times," he said.

Sirius laughed. "I was about to say the same thing about Tonks! Two of James, and no Peter. I think we may have traded up."

"I don't completely agree with you on that, Padfoot," said Remus. "She's like James at times, but she's also a lot like you. And she has a flair all her own."

"You make it sound like she's a one-woman crowd. But you don't think she has any shades of Moony in her?" asked Sirius.

"No, she hasn't got any Moony in her," said Remus quickly.

Sirius let loose a short bark of laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"You forgot to add the 'yet'! She hasn't got any Moony in her 'yet'!" Sirius continued to laugh.

Remus folded his arms. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. And when _will_ she get some Moony in her, old friend? You've certainly been taking your time," Sirius smirked at him.

Remus felt a slow blush spreading across his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he insisted.

"Don't you?"

Remus abandoned his wine, and stood up. "I don't care to dignify this juvenile line of questioning with a response. Now, I'm feeling rather tired. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go up to bed."

As he stalked up the stairs, he heard Sirius' barking laugh echoing behind him.


	3. A Series of Surprises

Chapter 2: A Series of Surprises

Nymphadora was doing her victory dance around the flickering campfire. The combination of firelight and moonlight cast eerie shadows across her body. As she danced, she began to take off her clothes, one piece at a time, and to cast them aside into the darkness with wild abandon. Soon, she was dancing fully naked in the firelight.

Remus watched her with growing hunger. He began to pant with desire. A glow in the sky distracted him.

He pulled his eyes off of her mesmerizing figure to glance up at the full moon glowing in the dark sky. "Nooo!" he cried.

He felt his body stretching and contorting, his skin tearing free of his flesh, his face lengthening into a snout. Fully transformed, the wolf stalked forward, toward the naked woman dancing around the fire. The wolf smelled something sweet, like vanilla and spice. It wanted her.

The wolf stood only a few paces from her. She stopped dancing, and stood still, looking the wolf in the eye, and trembling in the firelight. The wolf leapt. It knocked her to the ground, and stood over her, growling. She looked up at it with eyes not full of fear—but of love. She smiled. The wolf leaned down, and sank its teeth into her stomach. It began to feed upon her entrails. She cried out, moaning and gasping in pleasure…

Remus woke with a start, covered with sweat. He was shaking, with the dark images of his dream still flashing in his mind. He hated the last few days of the lunar cycle. The wolf always became harder and harder to control as the full moon drew close. He had learned long ago to suppress the wolf during his waking hours, but he couldn't control its effect on his subconscious. He couldn't stop the dreams.

He stumbled to his feet, and made his way to the tiny bathroom in his hotel room. He splashed his face with water, and took a drink, but the images of Nymphadora's naked body, and the feelings of hunger and desire, would not go away. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was just past five in the morning. He sighed. He might as well get his day started. It was a long journey home from Belgium to Cornwall, and he had to get there before moonrise.

He turned on the shower, making sure the water was icy cold, and stepped in.

He arrived at his house in Cornwall well before moonrise. He made his way down to his basement flat and flopped into his favorite armchair. It had been a very long day. International travel was exhausting.

He thought about napping a bit before the transformation, but shuddered at the thought of having another of those dreams. He had always had violent, primal dreams in the few days leading up to a transformation, but they had been getting worse the past few months. And for some reason, they always seemed to feature Nymphadora.

In fact, he realized, the dreams hadn't been this bad in more than eleven years. Not since he and Shari…. He hadn't thought about Shari in close to a year. Not since her last Christmas card. He wondered when that had happened—when had he stopped thinking about her all the time? It must have happened at around the same time he discovered that Sirius was innocent, and was still his friend.

He stood up, and walked back to his bedroom. He opened the top drawer of his dresser, and pulled out the small framed Muggle-photograph that sat in it. It was a picture of his younger self—before the lines and the grey. He was smiling broadly, and his arm was draped around the shoulders of a pretty young woman with dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes. They both looked so happy. Shari. He didn't feel any of the twinges of pain or sorrow that he had accustomed himself to when he looked at her picture. Instead, all he felt was a little regret, and a calm acceptance.

_When did this happen?_ He wondered. _When did I get over losing you? _Unbidden, an image of a pixyish round-cheeked face with bubble-gum pink hair rose in his mind. What did Nymphadora have to do with anything? He shook his head, and put the photograph back in the drawer, closing it with bang.

He spent the time before moonrise eating a light supper, and reading a novel. As the sun was setting, he heard a familiar knock on the door. He opened the door with a smile. "Hello, Toddy," he said to the scarred and grizzled wizard in rumpled robes that stood before him.

"'Lo, Lupin," Toddy grunted, stepping inside. Toddy Macnair had been the first tenant to move in when Remus had converted his parents' old house into flats ten years ago, and he had been the only tenant to stay for more than two years. Right now the top floor flat was vacant.

"Are you ready?" Toddy asked in a gruff voice.

Remus nodded. "As ready as I ever am," he said.

"Well, lets get to it," said Toddy, brusque as ever.

Remus led the way back through his basement flat to the dark door in the rear. He opened the door, and led the way down the five steps into the cramped, dark cellar. Most of the cellar was sectioned off by thick black iron bars, turning the back corner of the cellar into a cage. Remus pointed his wand at the bars, and spoke, "_Detorquo_!" The bars bent and contorted to form an opening large enough for him to step through. He placed his wand carefully on the tiny table standing next to the stairs, outside of the cage. He slowly removed his clothes, folding them neatly, and stacking them tidily on the table. Once he was nude, shivering in the cold, he stepped through the gap in the bars.

He looked back at Toddy, and gave him a sharp nod. Toddy nodded back, pointed his own wand, and said, "_Correctio_!" The bars straightened with a clang, shutting Remus firmly inside.

"Will you need a feeding tonight?" asked Toddy, gruffly.

Remus shook his head. "I ate less than an hour ago. I should be all right."

Toddy nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

Remus nodded back. "See you tomorrow."

Toddy stomped back up the cellar stairs, and closed and locked the dingy door behind him.

Remus turned, in a long-ingrained act of habit, and sat in a depression on the damp earth floor, facing the single slit of a window near the cellar ceiling. He watched as the darkness outside grew deeper. He waited. At last, a shaft of pale light pierced the darkness of the cellar, lighting a narrow patch of the floor. It was time.

He groaned, and clenched his teeth as the pain began.

Sunlight was filtering down through the tiny window. With a final heaving groan, he fell back to the ground, once more wearing his human body. He rolled onto his side, trembling with the memory of recent pain and exhaustion. With a sigh, he fell into a troubled slumber with hazy memories of his wolf-life still dancing in his mind.

The sunlight had grown stronger when he was roused by the sound of the cellar door opening. He continued to lie still, listening to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. But the tread didn't sound right. It wasn't Toddy's usual clomping. Instead, it was a lighter, more tentative step. His nostrils suddenly prickled with a familiar scent—of vanilla and spice. It couldn't be….

"_Detorquo_!" came the warm, feminine voice.

Remus quickly curled up, striving to hide his nakedness. "Nymphadora?" he said in astonishment.

A warm wool blanket dropped over him as he looked up to see her smiling face. "Wotcher, Remus!" she said cheerily. "Don't worry," she added with a wink, "I didn't see a thing."

He seriously doubted her veracity on that point, and hastily drew the blanket around himself. "What are you doing here?" he asked, groaning a little as he raised himself to a sitting position.

"Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling beside him, and putting a hand on his shoulder. "No serious injuries, I hope?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing but the usual scrapes and bruises. The worst part is the muscle aches, and the exhaustion. Humans just aren't meant to transform that way."

"Well, I'm glad to hear there's no serious harm done," she said. "As to why I came—I thought I'd better make sure that you'd be well enough for Sirius' birthday surprise tomorrow. I just don't trust that nutter upstairs to take proper care of you."

"He does just fine," muttered Remus, his surprise wearing off, and the exhaustion taking back over.

Nymphadora huffed. "Oh, really? So what does he do—give you a blanket and a relaxation tonic and leave you here in the dirt to sleep it off?"

Remus coughed uncomfortably. "That pretty much sums it up, yes."

"Well, no wonder it takes you two days to recover from a transformation. If you had some proper looking after, you would be fine in less than a day," she said. "You'll see—I'll have you back to normal by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Remus smiled wanly. "I appreciate the thought, Nymphadora, but I'm not sure how much you can really do."

She grinned at him. "Just you wait—I come bearing potent remedies to what ails you; compliments of the finest Apothecary in Liverpool."

"If I recall, your father is the only Apothecary in Liverpool," replied Remus.

"That doesn't mean he's not good at his job," countered Nymphadora. "Now, can you stand, or shall I conjure you a stretcher?"

"No. No stretcher. I can manage." He grimaced, trying to shift his weight.

"Let me help you."

As he strove to raise himself, he found that he was too tired to refuse her assistance. With considerable support from Nymphadora, Remus was able to hobble his way up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He was fairly certain that he managed to keep himself properly covered with the blanket, but felt himself blushing nonetheless. He flopped down onto his bed with a sigh of relief, and drew the covers up over his shivering body. With a bit of surprise, he noticed several scented candles burning on his dresser. He inhaled their sweet scent, and felt a sense of peace and lightness descending over him.

"Do you like them?" asked Nymphadora. "Dad usually sells them to people suffering from workplace stress, but I thought they might work for you, as well. The scent is supposed to lighten burdens and ease distress."

Remus breathed in deeply again, feeling better by the moment. "They're very nice—thank you," he said.

"And that's not all," she said. "Relax a bit while I get you the special tea I've got brewing." She bustled out of the room, and he settled down against his pillows. He mentally reminded himself to buy some of those candles for himself—they were working wonders.

Nymphadora bustled back in with a mug of lovely smelling herbal tea. "Here you are," she said, and he propped himself up on his pillows. "It's a relaxation tonic with a pain reliever added—and it tastes good too. Dad always prides himself on making the best-tasting potions in England," she said. He took the mug with a word of thanks, and sipped its aromatic contents. Immediately the pain of his bruises began to ease, and a delicious sense of relaxation trickled down through his body. He took a few more sips, smiling.

"These remedies of your father's are amazing!" he said, taking another sip. "I haven't felt this good the morning after a transformation since…since I don't know when!"

She patted him gently on the shoulder. "Like I said—all you need is some proper looking-after."

He smiled up at her with gratitude. Their eyes locked and held for a few moments. A strange expression flickered across her face—as if she wanted to say something, but was holding back. Then, she looked away. "I hope you don't mind me intruding like this," she said quietly.

Remus thought for a moment, and then answered, "If you'd asked me yesterday, I would have told you to stay away. But now that you're here—I'm glad you came. I didn't think I would be, but I am. Thank you."

She looked at him, once more with that strange expression on her face. "I'll have to be going soon," she said. "Work starts in half an hour."

"It's alright. I can manage things from here. You've already done wonders."

Her face brightened, the twinkle coming back to her eye. "But I'm not done yet," she said. "Drink up your tea and then take a bit of a nap. When you wake up, you'll find a packet of powder in your bathroom. Draw yourself a warm bath, and add the powder. It's the most amazing remedy for muscle aches that I've ever tried—really. And I've put a packed lunch in your fridge, so you can eat as soon as you're hungry. Plus, I'll be back with something hot for dinner."

Remus shook his head. "You really didn't have to do all this, Nymphadora."

She smiled at him. "I know." She gave his shoulder a little squeeze, and stood to leave. "I'll see you at around six forty-five. Take care of yourself—and do try that bath powder. It really is the most amazing stuff."

"I will," he said with a smile. "Your father really knows his remedies."

She paused for a moment, then leaned over him, and planted a soft quick kiss on his forehead. "You sleep well," she said with a smile. "I'll see you tonight." She turned and left.

Remus stared at the door where she had exited for a long time, the warmth of kiss still burning on his head. What was happening to him? Nymphadora was just a friend—wasn't she?

As Remus drank his tea, he mused over whether or not it would be in her character to give that sort of kiss to someone she thought of as 'just-a-friend'. As soon as he was done with the tea, he fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep, where Nymphadora danced once more.

Nymphadora was right—the bath powder was amazing. After a long soak in the treated bathwater, he felt almost normal again. He ate the lunch she had left for him, and even had the energy to do some chores around the flat. He really had neglected the place the last few months—plus, he needed to do something to distract himself from mentally replaying the images from his dreams.

He felt sleepy again in the late afternoon, and lay down on his sofa for another nap. He was still sleeping when the door swung open, admitting Nymphadora and the several packages of food that she was carrying. "Wotcher, Remus!" she cried happily.

He stretched, and sat up. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "You didn't cook, did you?"

She laughed. "Great Merlin, no! I got Molly to cook for us—she's still not used to cooking for just two, so she was happy to provide."

She toted her packages into the kitchen, and started laying out the meal on the table. He stood, and followed her in. The meal appeared to be a hearty affair of roast beef, potatoes, vegetables, and hot bread.

"I see you're feeling better," she said as she pulled out some plates and utensils.

He nodded. "I feel fantastic."

She smiled at him as they both sat down. "Hate to say I told you so, but …"

He laughed. "But you were abso-bloody-lutely right?"

"Couldn't have put it better myself," she said with a grin. "Now, eat up—there's enough here for a small army."

Once he got over the slight embarrassment that he felt on account of his recent dreams, Remus enjoyed the meal immensely. The food was delicious and the company was even better. Nymphadora regaled him with a tale of a recent adventure at work, in which she had been tailing someone she believed to be a murderous vampire. In the end, she discovered that the vampire in question had traded cloaks with a passerby, and she had been following a poor Polish tourist around the Wizarding haunts of London for half the night, while one of her fellow Aurors had captured the vampire hours earlier. "So once again, I have heroically distinguished myself in the line of duty," she said with a laugh.

"Well, all's well that ends well," said Remus. "Besides—you've been the hero often enough, haven't you?"

She nodded sheepishly. "I have had my fair share of collars," she admitted. "And speaking of _All's Well that Ends Well_, which play shall we tackle next? _Merchant of Venice_? Or maybe _The Comedy of Errors_?"

"I was thinking about _The Taming of the Shrew_," he said.

"Oooh—good choice!" she replied. "I've always thought Sirius would make a perfect Petruccio."

Remus nodded. "That was my thought as well. Perhaps we could take turns reading Petruccio in our best imitations of Sirius, and see if he catches on."

Nymphadora grinned at him. "Brilliant, when shall we start? Monday?"

"Monday should work for me," he replied.

"Then it's a date. Fantastic."

Remus eyed her for a moment before asking, "So… tomorrow night … what should I expect?"

She gave him a wicked little grin, and said, "Expect all your worst nightmares to come true."

He raised one eyebrow. "So I'll transform again and rip apart a room full of innocent children?"

She sighed, and rolled her eyes. "So, your second worst nightmares then."

"Hmmmm…And I absolutely have to be a part of this?"

She glared at him. "Yes. I'm not letting out of this. Besides—you'll have fun."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes, positive. You'll be horrified at first, but once you get over the horror, you'll have a magnificent time. I guarantee it."

Remus couldn't get anything more out of her on the subject. Soon after, she headed home, claiming that she had some last-minute details for the birthday surprise to work on. She did not repeat her goodbye kiss, and Remus wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, and so somehow managed to be both at the same time.

Remus headed back to Grimmauld Place the next morning. Sirius didn't ask him about the transformation, and Remus didn't feel like sharing. He felt like keeping Nymphadora's surprise visit a secret—at least for now.

They spent the day catching up on the events of the last week, and taking care of the mountain of chores that Sirius had neglected in Remus' absence. Remus was very careful not to mention anything about Bill and Nymphadora's planned surprise for that night—he didn't want their efforts to go to waste.

That evening, as the two old friends were relaxing in the parlor, the front door burst open noisily. Old Mrs. Black started up her usual caterwauling, and Remus heard Bill curse loudly at the painting. _It must be surprise time_, Remus thought to himself. Bill and Nymphadora quieted the painting, and then strolled into the room, carrying a few lumpy bags.

What struck Remus first was the extraordinary way the two of them were dressed. Bill wore a pair of baggy blue-jeans, artfully shredded at the knees, and a baggy black t-shirt with a picture of a disembodied eyeball floating on the front, complete with a bloody optic nerve trailing off into the distance behind it. The picture of the eye had been charmed, and it kept swiveling to look around the room. It was very disconcerting.

Nymphadora was wearing tight-fitting trousers in a shimmering, reflective, midnight-blue fabric and a form fitting silky black tank top, covered with a jacket made out of see-through pink vinyl. Her hair was short and spiky in dark blue to match her pants. For some reason the sight of her in that outfit sent a strange jolt of excitement surging through his body. _Get over it Remus—you're only friends_, he reminded himself. _And anyway, someone as young and vibrant as Nymphadora would never be interested in a stodgy old bookworm—would she?_

Once he got past his initial shock of seeing them in such unusual attire, he began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mischief was clearly afoot. And the wide, conspiratorial grins on their faces made him wonder what Nymphadora had really meant when she had told him to expect his worst nightmares to come true.

Sirius also knew mischief when he saw it, and he was grinning at the pair with a wicked gleam in his eye. "So—are you going to let me in on the fun? Or are you going to keep me in suspense all night?"

"We understand you have a birthday coming up, Black," said Bill.

Sirius' grin got even wider. "I do."

Nymphadora stepped forward. "We thought we'd celebrate a few days early. Surprise!" She handed him a small envelope.

He took it eagerly, ripping it open with relish. He reached inside, and pulled out five small rectangular cards, and stared at them wide-eyed. "Tickets to a Weird Sisters concert? Tonight?"

Remus frowned. _A concert? What in the world are they thinking? _"I'm sure Sirius appreciates the gesture, but how do you expect him to attend a public concert without being captured?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"With this," said Bill, handing Sirius a silver pocket-flask.

"What is it?" asked Sirius.

Bill and Nymphadora looked at each other with that same conspiratorial smile, then turned back to Sirius and said together, "Polyjuice potion!"

Remus was right. He didn't like the answer one bit.


	4. His Weaknesses

Chapter 3: His Weaknesses

Sirius stared at the pair of them for a moment, and then let out a whoop of excitement, leaping into the air. "We're going out on the town! You two rock!"

This was exactly what Remus had been afraid of—Sirius had so little sense of personal danger. It was up to Remus to be the voice of reason, and he was afraid that reason would not win the day. He already felt a headache coming on.

"Sirius—Bill—Nymphadora—this is a very bad idea. Not only would this little plan of yours completely violate Dumbledore's strict orders, but it would also put our friend here in very grave danger. I'm afraid I simply can't let you do this," said Remus.

"Can't let!" cried Sirius, his expression growing dark. "What do you mean _can't let_?" Sirius began to advance on him menacingly.

As Remus opened his mouth for a rebuttal, Nymphadora stepped between them, stopping Sirius mid-stride by placing a hand on his chest. "Calm down, Sirius. I was expecting this. Don't worry—give me five minutes alone with him, and he'll cave in."

Sirius frowned. "I'm not sure about that. He can be very stubborn sometimes."

"I know his weaknesses. I can handle him," she said, giving Sirius a quick wink.

Remus folded his arms across his chest in exasperation. "Now that you're done boasting about your prowess at manipulating me, would you mind discussing this like adults for a few minutes?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, and looked back at Nymphadora. "See what I mean?" he said.

She reached up to pat Sirius on the cheek. "Don't worry, Padfoot. I'll straighten him out in a jiffy. You and Bill get to work. I'll take care of Remus."

"Would you kindly stop talking about me as if I'm not here?" said Remus, angrily. This was getting out of hand already.

Nymphadora spun around on her heel to face him. "Come with me, Remus," she said sternly.

"No, I will not come with you. We are all going to talk about this right here, right now!"

"No, we will not. You and I will talk about this by ourselves, in the dining room. Now come with me."

"This is absurd!"

"Remus! Come! Now!" she said in a harsh, authoritarian tone. She spun again, and stomped out of the room.

He had never heard that tone from her before, and it startled him into silence. He glared at the broadly smiling Bill one more time before following her out of the parlor and into the dining room. With a flick of her wand she closed the door behind him.

"Nymph…" he began.

She interrupted him. "Not a word from you, Remus Lupin! Not a single word! You're going to hear me out before you start giving me one your patronizing lectures. Bill and I have worked too hard on this surprise to let you ruin it for Sirius—do you understand?"

"Patronizing lectures?" he exclaimed.

She reached up her hand, and touched the tip of her finger to his lips to silence him. "Sorry—I exaggerated. They're not usually patronizing. But the lecturing must be a habit left over from your year as a school teacher. Understandable, but still a tad annoying."

He tried to muster a suitable retort, but it died on the tip of his tongue as she slid her hand down from his lips to rest lightly on his chest. She was standing so close to him, looking up into his eyes… He began to feel a little dizzy.

"Now," said Nymphadora softly. "You and I both know that Sirius has been getting absolutely barmy locked up this horrible house for months and months without a break. And those three little excursions to play fetch in the park don't count as getting out of the house!"

"Well, he was outside."

"As a dog!"

"That's better than nothing," insisted Remus. "And it didn't risk his life!"

"Are you so sure?" said Nymphadora, raising an eyebrow. "He could have run into traffic and been hit by a car."

Remus shook his head. "Now you're just being silly."

"No, I'm not," she said, stepping a little closer to him, bringing her other hand to rest on his chest as well. He began to wonder if the airflow in the room was a bit lacking—the dizziness was getting worse.

"Polyjuice potion is the most effective method of disguise known to wizard-kind," she said. "If Barty Crouch Jr. could successfully pretend to be Mad-Eye Moody for an entire year, then Sirius should have no trouble being someone else for a single night. Besides, we've been working on it for a month. We're not going to make a habit of this sort of thing, but just for this one night—for this special occasion—Sirius will get a chance to feel free. He'll get a chance to feel normal again. What better gift could we give him than that?"

Remus could feel his resolve crumbling as his brain absorbed her vanilla-spiced scent. But he had to be the voice of reason here—didn't he? "What if he misses a dose? Or runs out of potion?"

"Not going to happen," she said, shaking her head. "We've got four flasks full of the stuff—one for each of us to carry. That should take care of any contingencies. Besides, we'll have double protection at the concert—the Polyjuice isn't our only cover."

"What else is there?" he asked, raising his hand to his chest to cover one of her own. He felt a tingle of excitement shooting through his body. Suddenly the thought of going to concert with Nymphadora didn't seem so bad after all—even if it meant taking a risk with Sirius. After all, he and Sirius always used to take risks, back in the old days. And they always came out all right. Would it really be so bad?

"Our backup cover," said Nymphadora with an impish grin. "Is the opening act. The Hobgoblins are back together."

"Excuse me? The who?"  
"The Hobgoblins—Stubby Boardman is back in the band, and they're opening for the Weird Sisters!" she exclaimed with delight.

"How is this supposed to help Sirius?"

She frowned. "You don't read the Quibbler, do you?"

"Why would I read that rubbish?" he retorted.

Nymphadora sighed, and rolled her eyes. "So you don't know anything about the stories claiming that Sirius is actually the lead singer in the band the Hobgoblins?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Remus, finally remembering. "I think Sirius might have mentioned that to me a few months ago. But it's complete nonsense—anyone with half a brain knows that."

"Then there must be lots of witches out there with less than half a brain," said Nymphadora, pulling away from him.

Remus was still a bit confused. "So, are you trying to tell me that there are people who actually believe that this Stubby Boardman character and Sirius Black are really the same person?"

"Yes!" retorted Nymphadora. "If you read the Quibbler, you'd already know that. It's been running a series of articles on the subject for months now."

"And how is this going to help us protect Sirius at the Weird Sisters concert?" he asked.

Nymphadora rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, Remus. For a man of intelligence you can be ridiculously slow sometimes."

He glared at her.

She continued. "Let me explain—since you can't seem to fill in the blanks yourself." She sighed. "Though it doesn't reflect well on my gender, I have to admit that there are a large number of women who take great delight in fantasizing about men that they've never met, almost to the point of believing themselves in love with these fantasy men. The blokes they fantasize about tend to fall into certain categories, including artistic types, and men who are dangerous and exciting. So if you buy into this Boardman is Black business, he fits all those categories. The dashing and romantic rock and roll singer who was framed for murder and falsely imprisoned for more than a decade and who two years ago made a daring escape and is still wanted by the Ministry. It's quite a story, and witches all over England are swooning."

Remus stared at her in amazement. "You've got to be kidding me!"

She shook her head. "Not at all. Stubby 'Sirius Black' Boardman has developed a very loyal and devoted following among the lonely and not-too-bright witches of our fair land. They call themselves the 'Boardmaniacs'."

Remus laughed. "This can't be real!"

"Oh, but it is," replied Nymphadora. "They even have a weekly newsletter where they can all gush about Boardman, and share their poetry and stories about him, and relate the latest Boardman sightings. If any of them bothered to do even a little bit of research, they would learn that Boardman has spent the last fifteen years in Yorkshire working as an Assistant Herbologist, and that he retired from music because he was pelted with rotten vegetables by a crowd of drunken louts. But they won't hear it. Instead he is their persecuted hero on the run. It really is ridiculous, Remus. It almost makes me ashamed of my sex."

"Extraordinary," said Remus.

"Isn't it? And naturally all the press about Boardman has led to amazing sales figures for old Hobgoblin's recordings. They've suddenly come back in style."

"So," said Remus. "This Hobgoblins performance must be like the second coming of Merlin for these 'Boardmaniacs.'"

"Now you're catching on," she said with a smile. "The crowd is bound to be full of dozens of devoted Boardmaniacs, and if someone starts crying out that they've seen Sirius Black, everyone else will just ignore it and blame the fuss on those barmy Boardman fans."

Remus could hardly believe it—but it was so outrageous it just had to be true. "You know, Nymphadora," he admitted. "Your plan just might work."

Her face lit up. "So you'll come?"

"Now hold on, I didn't say that. Just because your plan might work doesn't mean we ought to do it." He wagged his finger at her as he spoke.

Nymphadora's shoulders slumped and her face fell. "So what else is the problem?"

"Taking Sirius out of the house is an express violation of Dumbledore's orders. I'm not inclined to betray his trust for such a trivial matter," said Remus, mustering the sternest face possible.

Nymphadora glared at him. "Trivial? Haven't you seen how unhappy he's been—how crazy he's getting—locked up in this horrible house all day every day? It's killing him! This one night will mean so much to him—and you call it trivial!"

Remus felt guilty. She was absolutely right about Sirius; his confinement in the house _was_ killing him. But surely there had to be a safer way to cheer him up than _this_! And he couldn't let Dumbledore down again. He had failed him too often in the past.

Remus shook his head. "I wish there was something we could do…something that wouldn't violate Dumbledore's orders. You were there when he chastised us for the trips to the park! You saw how upset he was. I'm sure you can imagine how much worse it will be when he finds out about _this_!"

"So you care more about getting a few harsh words from Dumbledore than you do about preserving your best friend's happiness and sanity?" she retorted.

"No! It's just…"

"Just what?" she said, glaring at him harshly. "Anyway—you're hardly one to complain about betraying Dumbledore's trust. I've heard enough stories about the old days to know that wasn't always such a concern for you."

Though he knew Nymphadora couldn't understand, and wasn't deliberately trying to hurt him, that comment hit him like a blow. Dumbledore was his father's second cousin once removed, and had been like a favorite old uncle to him when he was a boy. He was the only person with any real power or respect in the Wizarding world that had ever given Remus a chance. He went to extremes to get Remus safely into school at Hogwarts. He had made Remus a prefect. He had helped Remus get several jobs after his graduation. He had trusted him enough that Remus had been the first person of his generation invited to join the original Order of the Phoenix. He had been there for Remus after his friends were killed, and Sirius was blamed. He had been there for Remus when his parents died. And he had been there for Remus for all those long lonely years after. Even more recently, he had trusted Remus enough to give him a teaching job at Hogwarts. He had wanted Remus to stay on at the school even after all that had happened and been revealed on that terrible full-moon night nearly two years ago. And even now he trusted Remus to lead the Order in his absence. Dumbledore had offered Remus unconditional trust. And Remus felt that he had betrayed him at every turn.

In school he never exerted any influence to stop his friends' wild shenanigans. And even worse, he was a willing party to their full-moon expeditions, which could have put dozens of innocent people at risk. And then, while he was teaching, he continued to hide the fact that Sirius was an Animagus. Dumbledore had quickly forgiven his deception, but Remus had yet to forgive himself. And he was determined not to betray his mentor and benefactor again.

Remus looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, Nymphadora, but I've betrayed his trust once too often. I am not going to do it again. I won't be a party to this."

"Fine!" she snapped. "Stay home and mope, if it suits you. But Bill and I are going, and we're taking Sirius with us—whether you like it or not!"

He looked up into her eyes again. They flashed with passion and anger. She wasn't making any idle threats. She was ready to go through with it. And she might resent him forever if he didn't come.

"I told you," he said steadily. "You can't take him."

"And I told you," she replied, stepping forward defiantly. "That he's coming, with or without you."

He tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand-pocket. "I can't let you do this."

She looked at his hand hovering over his wand, and mimicked the gesture. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "Fight us? Take us on one at a time?"

Remus felt his wand hand trembling. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He was about to jeopardize his friendships over what? A concert? And Polyjuice Potion really was the most effective disguise in the world… And Dumbledore didn't have to find out…As long as they were careful—and discreet. Something he couldn't count on unless he went along to make sure. One thing was certain—he wasn't going to start dueling his dearest friends over an illicit trip to a concert.

He turned away from her, and looked at the ground again, his wand hand relaxing. "No. I'm not going to fight you. You know I couldn't do that."

_Will I ever find a way to reconcile my loyalties to my friends with my loyalty to Dumbledore, or will they always be at odds?_

"I'm sorry for upsetting you. This is supposed to be fun, you know," she said from behind him.

"I know," he said, nodding his head.

Suddenly, he felt her arms sliding around him, enclosing him in a tight hug from behind. He felt the warm weight of her head leaning against his back. He reached up to cover her arms with his own. It had been so many years since he had someone to share this sort of affection with. There had been months at a time when he went without ever feeling the touch of another human being. It was as if he hadn't realized he was starving until he was offered a meal—but now that he knew, he wasn't going to give it up. Not for anything.

"If you want to stay behind, I'll understand," she said softly. "Bill and Sirius are going, no matter what. But if you want me to stay here with you—I will. You don't have to be alone."

He shook his head. "You don't have to do that, Nymphadora. I won't keep you away from your concert." He sighed in resignation. "All right. You win," he said.

He felt her pull back from him. With a firm grip on his shoulder, she spun him around to face her, and looked up into his eyes. "What do you mean, _I win_?" she asked.

He smiled wanly down at her. "I mean—you win. We can go to the concert."

Her eyes lit up again, with a smile spreading infectiously across her face. "You too?"

He nodded. "Me too."

"I win!" she squealed, flinging her arms up in victory, and bouncing up and down in delight.

He laughed. "I can't guarantee that I won't regret it."

She threw her arms around him in another tight hug, which he was happy to return. "You won't regret it!" she said. "I won't let you."

He held her tight for another moment, savoring the feeling of having her in his arms. Then he released her, and stepped back. "So what now?" he asked.

"Now," she said with a grin. "We get you ready to go!"

"What getting ready do I need to do?"

"You need to change your clothes."

"What's wrong with the ones I have on?" he asked, looking down at his navy jumper and khaki trousers, covered with a dull brown robe.

She rolled her eyes again. She did that a lot around him. "You can't go to a Weird Sisters concert dressed like that!" she said.

"My clothes are all pretty much like these," he replied.

"I know," she said. "That's why I took the liberty of picking something up for you." She walked to the dining table, and picked up a bag that she had dropped on it when she first walked in to the room.

"Here," she said, holding the bag out to him. "This is a perfectly acceptable rock-concert-going outfit for you."

He took the bag apprehensively. "Are you sure it will fit?"

She nodded. "I looked into your wardrobe and checked your sizes while you were away." He wasn't sure how he felt about her rifling through his room, but at least he wouldn't have to wear ill-fitting garments all night. However, based on what she and Bill were wearing, he wasn't sure he would want to wear the contents of the bag no matter how well they fit.

Clearly his apprehension was visible, because Nymphadora spoke up. "Don't look so worried. Trust me—you'll look fine. Its just black trousers and a blue shirt—nothing outlandish."

"All right," he said hesitantly. "I suppose I'll head up to my room and give them a try."  
"Brilliant!" she exclaimed, giving him one last hug. "We'll see you back in the parlor in few minutes."

They both headed out of the dining room, and he made his way upstairs while she went back to the parlor—no doubt to spread the good news of his acquiescence.

_Black trousers and blue shirt,_ he thought. _It can't be that bad—can it?_

He should have known better.


	5. Gearing Up

Chapter 4: Gearing Up

The black trousers turned out to be black _leather_ trousers. And the blue shirt was a loose billowing affair in the same shimmering midnight-blue color as Nymphadora's trousers. After staring at the clothes for a few minutes, with dread swirling around in his stomach, he finally decided he'd better at least try it on. If he didn't, he'd never hear the end of it.

He wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved when the trousers fit quite well. He'd been somewhat hoping for an excuse not to wear them, but on the other hand Nymphadora might have forced him whether they fit or not. However, he decided he might have to draw the line at the shirt. It had a strangely oversized collar and loose puffy sleeves that made the whole garment almost comical. He tried tucking it in, to see if it looked any better, but it didn't. He stood staring at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. No—this simply wouldn't work.

He heard a knock at the door. "What's taking you so long?" called Nymphadora from the hall.

"I can't wear this," he called back.

"Why not? I made sure it would fit."

He sighed. This might be another fight he couldn't win. "I look absurd."

"Let me be the judge of that," she said, as she opened the door and walked in looking stunning in her own club-gear. It made him feel even more ridiculous in comparison.

He stood there blushing while she looked him up and down with a sly little smile on her face. She stopped in front of him, and reached up to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt—sending chills of excitement up and down his spine. "You aren't supposed to button it all the way up, silly," she said. "And you definitely aren't supposed to tuck it in," she added, pulling it back out of his trousers. "There. That looks about right." She stepped back from him, looking him up and down again.

He glanced back down at the absurd ensemble. Now that the top few buttons were open, he was certain that the ridiculously oversized collar would flop embarrassingly around his neck every time he moved. And a little chest hair was peeking out from the opening at the top, making him look like a furry animal—not an association he wanted to encourage. In fact, he looked like a furry _old _animal, for several of the visible hairs were gray. This was not a good look for him. "So this is how it's supposed to look?" he said despairingly, staring in the mirror once more.

"Yep. You look just right," she said.

He once more stared at the mirror to survey the outfit. Then he turned back to Nymphadora. "I look," he said, "like a middle-aged gay pirate."

"A bit, perhaps," she answered with a little laugh.

"So can I put my normal clothes back on?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "Absolutely not. You have to trust me, Remus—khaki trousers and one of your old jumpers will make you stand out like a veela in a room full of hags. This lovely ensemble, however, will allow you to fade anonymously into the background, just like you want. Besides—no one will be able to see you that well in the dark."

Remus sighed. He had one more tactic he could try. "Couldn't I just borrow some jeans and a t-shirt from Bill? Nothing with moving eyes, of course, but I'm sure he has something more subtle than that."

Nymphadora put on an expression of long-suffering, and replied, "I suppose you could, but it really wouldn't be _you_, Remus."

"And this is?" he said, gesturing down at the offending outfit.

Nymphadora huffed and rolled her eyes. "It has buttons. When was the last time you wore a shirt without buttons?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. "Other than a jumper?"

He closed his mouth again, and thought for a moment. "I think it must have been… 1978," he said finally, suddenly feeling very old.

"And I would hazard a guess that it's been just as long since you last wore jeans?" she asked archly.

"Even longer. I gave them up when I was made a prefect."

"There you have it," said Nymphadora. "Jeans and a t-shirt would not be you. This will do much better."

Remus knew when he had lost a fight—and this fight was over. "Very well then. I'll wear the blasted outfit."

"Lovely!" she replied with a smile. "Now, we'd best get downstairs, and get on with it."

"Yes indeed," said Remus, giving himself another look in the mirror. "If I don't get out of view of this mirror soon, I might be tempted to rip this shirt off and burn it."

"I don't know—an incendiary strip-tease might be worth the wait," she said slyly, edging closer to him. His heart started to beat faster again.

Suddenly, they were interrupted. "What's this about a striptease? You going to put on a little show for us, Moony?" said Sirius, walking into the room with Bill behind him.

Remus instinctively took a step back from Nymphadora. He felt unexpectedly annoyed at the interruption, but suppressed the feeling before answering. "I would—but it might make us late for our big night out on the town."

He stared in growing delight at Sirius' outfit—some relics from his motorcycling days. He was wearing blue jeans covered by black leather chaps, and a black tee-shirt topped by a black leather vest studded with rivets and chains. Padfoot was back in action. "I can't believe you still have that," said Remus. "I thought for sure your mother would have thrown it out!"

Sirius shrugged. "She must have held some sort of lingering affection for me after all—I found most of my old clothes stashed in a box up in the attic. And I'm glad I did—this one cost me a good fistful of galleons. This is genuine dragon-belly! Expensive stuff! You're looking mighty fine yourself, Moony."

"You really think so?" asked Remus skeptically.

"Certainly," said Sirius dismissively.

Remus looked down at the outfit again, wondering if he was seeing the same clothes that Sirius was seeing. Suddenly Sirius' comment about his expensive outfit stirred something in the pit of Remus' belly. _Just how much money did Nymphadora spend on this?_

"So Tonks talked you in to it, has she?" said Bill, eyeing Remus' outfit with amusement.

"She has quite a way with words," replied Remus, glancing uneasily at Nymphadora as his guilt over the possible expense of his outfit increased.

Nymphadora stepped forward. "If you boys are done checking each other out, we really should get going."

"Let's go back downstairs and get you dosed, Black. It's time to assume your new identity," said Bill.

"Let's do it!" said Sirius, heading down the stairs.

Remus managed to get a quiet word with Nymphadora on the stairs. "How much did you pay for this outfit?" he asked her in a hasty whisper. "I need to know how much I owe you."

She stopped cold, staring him straight in the eyes. "It was meant as a gift, Remus."

"But it's not _my_ birthday," he replied.

She shook her head. "Then consider it an early Christmas present. Really. This whole night is on me."

"I don't feel right about that, Nymphadora," he said earnestly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You really need to learn how to accept a gift once in while." She started trudging back down the stairs. "And anyway," she added, "It was a bargain at an estate sale I went to last week."

"Estate sale?" he said, startled. "You mean the previous owner of these clothes is…?"

"Dead," she finished for him with a wicked grin. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I don't think it was anything catching.

With that, they reached the parlor. Bill reached into the bag he'd left there, and pulled out three more flasks. He passed two of them to Nymphadora and Remus. "Remember, keep these on you at all times, just in case."

Remus managed to get his into his back pocket, and Nymphadora slipped hers into a tiny purse that she had produced out of nowhere. In the meantime, Sirius had pulled his own out of an inside pocket of his vest. He uncapped it, and prepared to take a swig, when Bill stopped him. "Wait!" he said. "Tonks—did you have a chance to go over the cover story with Lupin yet?"

She shook her head. "I didn't have time. I was too busy talking him into the outfit."

Sirius snickered, and said, "Is that all you two were doing up there? Surely you were up to something more interesting than that?"

Remus glared at him. "I think Bill said something about a cover story?" he asked, avoiding Sirius' question, and half-wishing that they had been up to something other than talking.

Sirius' grinned, and replied, "From here on out, you can call me Colin Weasley—Bill's cousin from Ireland."

Remus looked at Bill. "Do you even have a cousin Colin from Ireland?"

"Of course not," replied Bill. "But no one needs to know that."

"But what if some of your old classmates are at the concert? Won't they wonder why this mysterious cousin of yours has never been mentioned before? Or why he didn't attend Hogwarts?" Remus asked the first few of the many questions that were flitting through his mind.

"Well," said Bill, "they won't remember him from Hogwarts because his progressive parents sent him to the Blue Sky Academy for Artistic Wizardry, in Los Angeles."

"Good God!" exclaimed Remus. "Is that place still in business?"

"I can't believe you've actually heard of it!" said Sirius. "I thought it was just a pile of dragon-dung when Weasley told me about it."

"I discovered it about eight years ago, when I was applying to teach overseas," replied Remus. "It's the strangest place—spends as much time on art and music and drama as it does on the basics of magic. It's a wonder any of its graduates ever find work."

"From what I've seen they certainly don't find good work," said Nymphadora, smiling up at him. "My first year out of Hogwarts I had a flat-mate who went to Blue Sky. She was a real nutter—worked as an assistant in Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, but claimed she was really a song writer. But I never once heard her singing."

Remus laughed. "So what will you be, 'Colin'? An out of work actor? An ill-tempered painter?"

Sirius replied, "I was thinking, world-traveling poet and play-write."

Remus nodded with a grin. "It suits you."

"Why thank you, Moony," said Sirius with a bow.

"So, have we all got the story straight?" asked Bill.

They all nodded in assent. "I think we've got it figured out, Weasley. Now let's get on with it," said Sirius. He opened his flask again, and without another warning took a few large gulps of the potion within.

Sirius grimaced as he swallowed the last of the thick liquid in his mouth, then stood perfectly still—waiting. Slowly, his skin and hair seemed to blur, and ripple. His pale skin began to darken into a tan. His hair gradually lightened. His jaw grew more square, his nose a bit wider, and his grey eyes shifted into a vibrant blue. In just a short moment, Remus' old friend had been replaced by a handsome, athletic and young blond man.

A broad, white-toothed smile flashed across the new Sirius' face. "Did it work?" he asked in an eerily changed voice. "How do I look?"

"It worked like a charm," said Bill.

"You look fabulous," said Nymphadora, in a dreamy sort of voice.

Remus just stared. Sirius had become one of the most beautiful specimens of humanity that he had ever seen.

Sirius eyed him nervously. "What is it? Is something wrong?" He started patting his face and hair anxiously.

"No … no," replied Remus. "Nothing's wrong. You just look so … so…" He was at a loss for words.

"I have to see it!" cried Sirius, dashing over to the old gilt mirror hanging above the fireplace. He paused in front of the mirror, staring wide-eyed at his unfamiliar reflection. He reached up to pat his new face some more. Then, he grinned at himself. He ran his fingers through his thick, wavy blond hair. Then he winked at himself. "What a handsome devil!" he said.

"I know," said Nymphadora, walking up to Sirius and throwing an arm around his shoulders. "I picked him out just for you. I had to frequent Muggle pubs for more than three weeks to find just the right one. After all, I couldn't choose a wizard, or you might run into your alter-ego at the concert! But I figured if you were going to be wearing a Muggle face for a night, I ought to choose you a lovely one."

"Lovely!" cried Sirius. "I'm bloody gorgeous! A veritable Adonis! The girls won't be able to keep their hands off me!"

"They certainly won't! I was completely overwhelmed the first time I saw him—he took my breath away. I've never seen anything so beautiful," said Nymphadora, gazing at the reflection in the mirror with a strangely hungry look on her face.

Remus coughed uncomfortably. "So," he said, "how exactly did you get your…sample, of him, to use in the potion?" He wasn't sure he really wanted the answer.

She turned to look at him with a devious smile. "That's my little secret," she said with a wink.

Remus felt an unexpected lurch of something akin to nausea in his stomach. She wasn't the kind of girl to fool around with strange Muggles—was she? How well did he really know her?_ Get over it, Remus—this jealousy is ridiculous._ He told himself._ Besides, you're too old for her. She'd never want someone like you. Not when she could have someone young, and safe._

"If you're done mentally undressing yourself, Black, let's get out of here," said Bill. "Where'd you put those tickets?"

"Over here," said Sirius, pulling himself from his new reflection to stride over to a side table to pick up the tickets. "Hey!" he exclaimed, "Who's this fifth ticket for?" He got a frightening gleam in his eye, and asked, "Are we going to bust Harry out of Hogwarts for the night? Smashing!"

Bill and Nymphadora exchanged an uncomfortable look, and Bill answered, "Actually, it's for Fleur."

Sirius' face fell momentarily, but then he perked right back up. "Of course—of course! Naturally you want to bring your girl along. And I've certainly been wanting to meet her. But you'd better watch out, Weasley. In this get up I might give you a run for your money."

"In your dreams, Black," replied Bill with an amiable smile.

"We'll see," countered Sirius, with a broad white grin.

"If you don't mind," said Nymphadora, stepping in between Bill and Sirius, and giving both of them dirty looks, "none of us have eaten dinner yet, and I was hoping we would have time for a quick bite before heading to the concert. Let's get going!"

They all nodded, and Remus asked, "So where do we go first?"

"The Apparation point at the Gringotts end of Diagon Alley," replied Bill.

"Remember the way, Sirius?" asked Nymphadora.

"Of course I do," huffed Sirius. "Let's move."

They all focused on their destination, and, with four loud cracks, they Apparated. They emerged from the tiny alcove outside Gringott's to step onto Diagon Alley.

Sirius strode to the center of the street with a silly grin on his face. He spun slowly in a circle, staring eagerly around at the glowing shop fronts and the busy evening foot traffic of Diagon Alley. He took a few deep lingering breathes of the cool night air, as all his friends gathered around him. He stopped, looked Remus in the eye, and declared, "We did it, Moony! I'm free!"


	6. Marauders on the Move

Chapter 5: Marauders on the Move

Sirius' enthusiasm was catching, and Remus felt his smile growing almost as large as his friend's. Sirius laughed—a light, giddy laugh that Remus hadn't heard since before James and Lily were killed. Sirius' eyes were glowing, and even behind his new Greek-god mask, Remus could see that his friend was the happiest that he had been since their reunion a year and a half ago. _Why did I try to stop this? He's needed this for so long._

Nymphadora and Bill joined Remus in his quiet contemplation of their friend's elation. Sirius' bright blue eyes were darting around the street, watching groups of witches and wizards strolling by, and bustling in and out of shops. A pair of particularly attractive young witches caught his eye, and with a wicked grin, he started out after them. Bill hastily stepped after him and caught a hold of his arm. "Hold on, cousin," said Bill. "Slow down a little."

"Oh come on, mate!" cried Sirius. "They're getting away!"

"Don't worry—there'll be plenty more at the concert. Just be patient."

"Do I have to?" pleaded Sirius.

Bill nodded. "Sorry, _Colin_. But we're already a little tight on time—thanks to mister indecision over here," he pointed his thumb back at Remus.

"Well perhaps if you'd given me a little advance warning…" started Remus.

Nymphadora cut him off. "Don't worry about it. You didn't take any more time than you needed."

Bill laughed. "But you're biased, Tonks—as far as you're concerned, he's practically perfect in every way."

Sirius laughed along with Bill, and Nymphadora scowled at them. Remus looked on in bewilderment. _Exactly what did Bill mean by that?_

Unfortunately, they immediately dropped the topic, and Remus was left to speculate for himself.

"Let's go get Fleur. Her flat's over this way," said Bill, leading the way.

"So how can Fleur afford a Diagon Alley flat with nothing but part-time work?" asked Sirius, falling into step with his "cousin".

"Her parents are subsidizing her," Bill responded.

"It's good to have money, isn't it?" said Nymphadora with a sigh.

"Only if you're allowed to use it," Sirius responded glibly—he should know. He'd been sitting on a pile of gold that he'd been unable to spend due to his fugitive status.

Bill led the way into a narrow door between two shop fronts, and up an even narrower flight of stairs. The tiny landing at the top had doors to three different flats. Bill knocked on the first door, and it was flung open with an alarming swiftness. A shimmering blonde haze gasped in delight, launched itself at Bill's face, and started kissing him enthusiastically. _This must be Fleur,_ thought Remus with slightly embarrassed amusement. The couple's arms were wrapped around each other, and their bodies had begun to melt together into a single fluid mass of red and blonde.

Remus expected the kissing to end after just a moment—but instead it seemed to keep going on…and on…and on. Remus shuffled his feet uncomfortably, looking at the ground. Sirius was smiling, and shaking with silent laughter. Nymphadora crossly folded her arms, and was tapping her foot impatiently. As the kissing continued to show no signs of stopping, Remus glanced up at Nymphadora beside him. She sent him a crooked little smile, and rolled her eyes at their entangled friend. She gestured for him to lean closer to her—which he gladly did—and stretched up to whisper in his ear. Her breath was warm on his neck. "It'll only last another minute—or two," she said. "They're like this every time!"

Remus smiled back down at the petite woman beside him, and inexplicably wondered what it would be like to knock on her door, and receive a similar reception. The thought of holding her soft, small body in his arms—and of feeling her slender fingers running through his hair—and of having her moist lips press against his own—made him feel increasingly warm and flushed. Remus was still looking down at Nymphadora, a happy little smile playing across his face, when she raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "What? What's the smile for?"

He shook his head, looking down at the ground. "Nothing," he said, "nothing at all." But the smile inspired by his imagined kiss lingered on his face.

The slender blonde figure finally released her suction on Bill's face to glance over at her other visitors. She blinked her large, luminous eyes, and then plastered a rather insincere smile on her face. "Tonks!" she cried in an artificially cheery tone, "'Ow delightful to see you again!" she finished in a thick French accent, before promptly turning back to Bill to fix his mussed hair.

Nymphadora mimicked Fleur's artificial smile, and replied, "It's always a joy to see you, Fleur!" After she spoke, she looked over her shoulder at Remus, and rolled her eyes.

Not only was Fleur as beautiful as Bill had boasted, she might be even _more_ beautiful than Bill had boasted. She reminded him of a poster of a scantily-clad veela that Sirius had pinned to their dormitory wall for their last three years at Hogwarts—which was definitely not a good image to be associating with his friend's girlfriend.

Suddenly, the unfortunate revelation struck Remus that he was surrounded by a collection of strikingly attractive young people. He felt like a mule in a field full of unicorns. Remus glanced back down at his bizarre outfit, and sighed. Tonight was definitely shaping up to be an outing of four beauties, and one beast—an unmistakably middle-aged beast dressed like a gay swashbuckler. He'd just have to grin and bear it.

Fleur, her arms still wrapped around Bill, turned her gaze toward Remus. She looked him up and down with an air of what could only be described as snobbish amusement. "You must be thees _Remus_ zat I 'ave 'eard so much about," she said. Remus did his best to muster a smile, and stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Remus Lupin. And you must be Fleur Delacour. Bill has told us all about you." She reluctantly released her grip around Bill's midsection to shake his hand.

Sirius took that moment to step forward from the shadowy recesses of the narrow stairwell. When she saw him, Fleur's expression lit with sudden curiosity, and she stepped away from Bill toward Sirius, saying, "And you must be Colin! Bill deed not even tell me zat 'e 'ad a cousin until two days ago, and now 'ere you are! So good to meet you!"

"A pleasure to meet you, Fleur—a real pleasure!" he said in his best imitation of an Irish brogue. He took Fleur's hand in his, and raised it to his mouth for a kiss.

"Ze pleasure is all mine," said Fleur, winsomely. She giggled as Sirius continued to grasp her hand.

"That's enough of that, _cousin_," said Bill, stepping forward to wrap his arm protectively around Fleur's waist.

"Oh, 'e is just being chivalrous, _mon petit chou_," said Fleur, still smiling up at 'Colin.'

"Nice shirt, Fleur," broke in Nymphadora, clearly trying to change the subject. For the first time Remus noticed what was printed on Fleur's small, tight, bright pink t-shirt. A purple glittery letter "I" was followed by an equally glittery heart, which in turn was followed by the letters "SB."

"So would that be _I 'heart' Stubby Boardman, _or _I 'heart' Sirius Black_?" asked Nymphadora, smiling wickedly at the girl, as Remus stifled a laugh.

"Both, of course," replied Fleur. "Both poor men were wronged by your Meenistry, and both were shunned by society—but 'opefully soon both men will be publicly cleared, and geeven the respect and admiration that they are due." She sounded very serious about it.

'Colin' looked Bill in the eye, and said, "I really like this girl of yours."

Fleur giggled again.

Nymphadora raised one eyebrow, and asked, "So you don't think they're the same person?"

"Not anymore, no," answered Fleur, still terribly serious. "Bill told me ze truth, of 'ow 'is own brother Ron witnessed proof of Meester Black's innocence, and was ignored by the Meenistry. And, of course, as a loyal fan of ze 'obgoblins since I was a leetle girl, I knew full well zat Stubby Boardman 'ad never gone to Azkaban. But I feel such sympathy for both men, zat I am compelled to speak up on zere behalf."

Nymphadora nodded, still grinning. "Good for you, to get involved in important social issues like this."

Fleur frowned at her. "I do what I can."

"Of course you do," with an air of mock sympathy. "But enough of politics. Let's get some food. I'm starving. There's a great fish and chip shop just down the way," said Nymphadora.

"Do zey serve salad?" asked Fleur, with a wicked glare.

"Salad? What for?"

Fleur sneered at Tonks. "Some of us like to watch our weight."

Remus was beginning to suspect that Fleur was smarter than she had appeared at first glance. She certainly wasn't going to let Nymphadora get away with taking the mickey out of her, without taking some back. Nymphadora stared at Fleur in shock, and appeared about to make a harsh retort when Bill stepped forward and said, "Just a bit further there's a great little café, and they serve salad _and_ fish and chips."

Wisely, Nymphadora chose to keep her mouth shut as Bill led them out and down the street to the café. Bill took one of Fleur's arms, and Sirius took the other, forming a nice little Fleur sandwich. Remus and Nymphadora fell in behind them.

Nymphadora was looking glumly down at herself as they walked.

"You're really bothered by what she said, aren't you?" asked Remus.

Nymphadora sighed. "She always finds a way to hit me where it hurts. Insufferable snob."

"Ignore her," replied Remus. "As far as I'm concerned, you can eat all the fish and chips you want. You look fantastic."

His words had the desired effect of turning her frustrated frown into a smile of delight, and Remus was additionally rewarded by the light in her eyes when she turned to ask him, "Do you mean it?"

"Absolutely," he stated flatly. A shy smile blossomed on her face. "And besides," Remus added, "if you were ever unhappy about your appearance, you could just—change. Couldn't you?"

Her smile disappeared. "Humph. And feel all pinched and stretched and twisted all day, just to look like _that?_" She pointed at Fleur. "No thank you. I admit, I used to play that game when I was in school, but I gave it up years ago. I tried to convince myself that going _au natural _was a sign of maturity, but it's probably just laziness."

"Not at all! I think it's definitely a testament to your strength of character that you stay true to your natural self, even when you have the power to disguise it. Not many people would have that kind of confidence," he retorted. "Not that there's anything wrong with your natural self. I'm rather fond of it."

Her smile returned. "That's very sweet of you. I just wish everyone felt that way," she said with a significant glance at Fleur.

"Oh, I'm sure most of them do," replied Remus.

"Hah. You don't know the sort of guys I've dated. Most of them only asked me out when I was trying to look willowy and graceful like my mum. Two of them even had the gall to ask me if took requests."

"No!"

She nodded her head with a little laugh. "Yes! Needless to say—there was no second date. I got so tired of blokes fixating on my looks, and on how I _could_ look, that I gave up putting on a show. I decided that if someone wanted to ask the real me out, then he might be worth something. And I've been the real Tonks ever since—pudgy cheeks, crooked smile, wide hips and all. I haven't had nearly as many dates, but the fellows have all been of a much higher caliber."

Remus wasn't sure how to respond. He finally just shook his head, and asked, "Are men really that shallow?"

"Not all of them. But too many are—especially the ones my age. They haven't had enough time to grow up yet. That's why I like older men. They have the maturity and experience to appreciate someone like me," she said, smiling up at him with an unreadable expression.

Once again, Remus was lost for words. Though they had talked a great deal about their lives and past history with one another, somehow the topic of their love lives had never before come up—with the exception of that ridiculous conversation Nymphadora had started several weeks ago, the night they finished _All's Well That Ends Well. _His heart started pounding faster, and he looked intently at her profile beside him, wondering—not for the first time—what her true feelings for him might be. _Older men—is she trying to tell me something? Or am I reading way too much into this? _He was so distracted by his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that they had arrived at the café.

Fortunately, Bill's assertion that the café served both fish and chips and salad proved correct, and they were all soon enjoying a bite of dinner. Remus did notice that the waitress kept giving Sirius admiring glances, alternating with disdainful looks at Remus. Looking down at his dreadful outfit, then back up at his collection of beautiful friends, he began to wish he was carrying an Invisibility Cloak in his pocket. If he was going to be getting looked in askance all evening, he would certainly prefer to disappear.

Most of the conversation during dinner revolved around Sirius spinning ever more elaborate tales of his life as a globe-trotting writer. Some of his stories were really quite convincing. But Remus found himself growing increasingly troubled by the dreamy way Nymphadora kept staring at Sirius' new face. Was it possible that when she had mentioned liking older men, that she could have been referring to Sirius? After all, she had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this outing for him. And she certainly seemed to resent the attention he was paying to Fleur. With these distressing thoughts swirling in his head, Remus did his best to work his way through his dinner.

After several more minutes of thought, he concluded that he had never seen Nymphadora look at Sirius like that before his transformation. It couldn't have been Sirius she was talking about. But what about the Muggle whose appearance he had assumed? When Fleur and Sirius got carried away in a tête-à-tête about the Paris theater scene, he leaned over Nymphadora's shoulder and asked her quietly, "So really, how did you get your sample of Sirius' alter ego?"

Nymphadora looked back at him with a curious expression on her face. After a pause she asked, "Is that a trace of jealousy I detect in your voice, Remus Lupin?"

Remus could feel himself blushing. "No," he denied. "Certainly not. Why in the world would I be jealous?"

"Why indeed?" said Nymphadora, still with the curious expression on her face.

Remus could think of no reply other than, _Because I have a crazy crush on you_, and so remained silent. It was the first time he had admitted to himself that his feelings had gone as far as a crush. He wished he'd recognized his feelings sooner, and put a stop to them. No good would come of it. He was far too old and gray to catch her eye for any lasting period. There were times when it seemed that she might hold him in a higher regard than their other friends, but surely that was nothing more than the result of the closeness of their friendship. In some ways he felt closer to her than even to Sirius.

She returned to her observation of Sirius and Fleur with a secretive smile on her face, and he sat in silence studying her sweet, heart-shaped face. _Why didn't I see this happening to me? And why didn't I try to stop it? Do I even want to stop it?_

Finally, Bill—looking frustrated at Sirius' monopolization of his girlfriend—spoke up. "We'd better get a move on, or we'll miss the Hobgoblins."

"Oh no!" cried Fleur, "We cannot meess Stubby!"

Sirius insisted on paying the bill for the whole group, much to Bill's frustration, and then they all headed down the alley to the nearest Floo station.

"Since we haven't all been there, I supposed going by Floo might be safer than Apparation," said Bill.

"So what's the name of the club where the concert is being held?" asked Remus.

"The Dragon's Lair. It's an old converted manor-house in Devonshire," answered Nymphadora.

"Really?" said Remus. "Does it have a bunch of silly Greek statuary in the front garden?"

"Yeah," answered Bill, with a laugh. "How did you know?"

"It used to be called Monique's Manor," said Remus. "Sirius and Peter and James and I all went there just after leaving Hogwarts to see the Banshee Babies!" He paused, noticing the incredulous stares of his young friends. "I just dated myself rather badly,didn't I?" he asked, as Sirius began to chuckle softly.

"My father listens to the Banshee Babies!" said Bill with a laugh.

"Well—they were quite hip. At one time…" muttered Remus.

"Don't worry about it," said Nymphadora, leaning toward him conspiratorially. "I'm sure you're the type of bloke that's only gotten better with age."

Remus thanked her abashedly, wondering again if she ever flirted with Sirius like this when his back was turned.

They had reached the Floo station, and Remus watched as his beautiful young friends disappeared one by one into the fire. After one last glance down at his ridiculous attire, he thought, _At least clubs are always dark. Let's hope this one is VERY dark. _With a sigh, he stepped in after them and said, "The Dragon's Lair." He felt himself rushing through the Floo network to his destination.

It was party time.


	7. The Cool Teacher

Chapter 6: The Cool Teacher

With a jolt, Remus felt his feet strike a hard floor. He tumbled out of the shooting green flames to find himself emerging from a massive fireplace into a large, dimly-lit entry hall. Ahead of him, a long line of witches and wizards snaked back and forth through the narrow stone hall before disappearing through a massive door.

"Move it along," said a gruff orange-robed security wizard stationed beside the fire. "Don't block the Floo!" Before he could respond, Remus was roughly pushed into the queue behind Nymphadora, right as another wizard popped into the fireplace that he had just vacated.

"Popular place," he muttered into Nymphadora's ear. He felt a sudden sharp jab in his back from another wizard's elbow as yet another hapless concert-goer was yanked from the fire and pushed into line.

"Popular bands," she replied. "You should have been here on their last jazz night. Much smaller crowd. Felt downright cozy and intimate."

"How often do they have these jazz nights?"

"Once a month."

"Let me know when the next one comes up. I'd love to go. I rather like jazz." He left out the fact that he'd much rather have her feeling cozy and intimate with him than with whomever she'd gone with the last time.

"Sounds like fun—we'll definitely have to do that," she replied. He wished he could see the expression on her face, but she was still ahead of him in the queue, and the hall was dreadfully dim.

The queue slowed considerably as it merged with another queue—the Apparators who had come in the outside entrance. But eventually, their little party reached the security wizards at the door to the club. Sirius pulled out all their tickets with a flourish, and acted as if he was treating all his friends, rather than the other way around. Remus smiled at his friend's antics. _It's his birthday party—let him have his fun._

Finally, they were ushered through the entryway and into the club itself. "Let's hit the bar, and survey our surroundings," said Sirius, taking a quick swig from his flask. "Plus, I need something to wash out the foul taste of this potion," he whispered to Remus with a little laugh.

As Sirius led the way to the long bar at the far side of the room, Remus noticed that the basic layout hadn't changed since its days as Monique's Manor. On their way to the bar, his little party edged through the milling crowd of young witches and wizards, and around the various tables and booths that surrounded the dance floor. Quite a few of the young concert-goers were already flowing down the small four-step staircases that led to the recessed dance-floor, which was separated from the seating area by a railing.

As they walked, Remus surveyed the dimly lit club. A darkened stage dominated one entire side of the dance-floor, directly across from the bar. It was currently swathed in a thick, magically-conjured fog, hiding the instruments that were undoubtedly already in place.

The layout of the club may not have changed since he last entered it, but the décor was dramatically different. Where the walls and ceilings had once been festooned with red velvet draperies and gold cords, they were now textured with grey-blue faux stone and hanging stalactites. The plush upholstery had been traded in for slick shimmering green faux dragon-hide. Columns of ghostly green heatless flame shot up from the dance floor in random intervals and ever-varying locations. And in place of the gaudy crystal chandelier that had once dangled over the dance floor flew three half-sized illusory dragons, shimmering purple, green and blue. They swooped in an unending circle casting an eerie glow over everything beneath them. _Faux stone, faux dragon-hide, faux flames, and faux dragons—is it faux everything? I hope this place will offer some real fun. Or at the very least, real alcohol._

As the group of friends moved through the dim light toward the crowded bar, Remus accidentally jostled against a young man headed in the opposite direction. He turned to apologize, only to see a startled look of recognition in the young man's face. It took just a second longer for Remus to recognize the young man in return. It was one of his old seventh-year students from Hogwarts. He felt so flustered that he let the apology die unspoken on his lips, and hastened to follow Sirius to the bar, looking about himself anxiously.

_Please let him be the only one. Please!_ But his silent plea was to no avail. As he reached the bar, one quick glance showed him at least three more of his former sixth and seventh year students at the bar alone. Who knew how many more would be out on the dance floor, or sitting at the tables?

"A round of Firewhiskey for me and all my friends!" called Sirius in his silly Irish brogue as he slapped his hand down on the bar. _Firewhiskey! Yes—if I'm to spend the evening in _this _place, in _these_ clothes, with dozens of my former students, then Firewhiskey is exactly what I need._

The bartender placed five Firewhiskeys in front of Sirius, and he began to pass them around to all his friends. As Bill received his, he held his glass out and said, "I propose a toast! To my dear cousin Colin, on his thirtieth birthday. Farewell to the frolicsome days of your youth, and hello to the long dreary night of your manhood!" With laughs all around, they clinked their glasses together and took a drink. Remus downed his whole glass in two lusty gulps.

"Thank you for your kind words, cousin—but the night-time has always been very kind to my manhood, and I expect tonight to be no different!" said Sirius.

Remus noticed two more young men from his seventh year class walking by, staring at him. One of them pointed and whispered something to his friend, who laughed. Remus could feel the blush rising in his face, and did his best not to stare back down at his ridiculous outfit. Instead he slammed his glass back down on the bar, and called for another. He had no ear for whatever his friends were talking and laughing about—all he could think about was the night-long humiliation that had only just begun. As soon as his second drink arrived, he downed it as quickly as he had his first.

"Are you alright?" asked Nymphadora quietly, a look of concern on her face. "I've never seen you drink like this before."

She was right—he wasn't normally a heavy drinker. And if he kept on going like this, he was bound to get thoroughly pissed and make an even worse fool of himself. He forced a smile onto his face, and shook his head. "I'm fine—just trying to calm my nerves."

"Nerves?" she asked with a crooked little smile.

"I've never been terribly fond of crowds. Or parties. But I think I've probably already reached my acceptable alcohol intake for the night—hopefully it will help."

She leaned against the bar next to him, looking completely at home. "You have nothing to worry about—Sirius and I will look after you."

He could feel the alcohol relaxing him already. "You're going to look after me, are you? So exactly what does that entail?"

Before she could answer, Bill broke in. "Tonks! Look over there! It's Eddy Balfour!"

Nymphadora quickly looked over to where Bill was pointing. "Crikey! It is him! I haven't seen him in ages." She turned to Remus and Sirius to explain. "He was the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team who gave me a chance to play. A really nice chap, Eddy. Not many blokes would have given a tiny little girl like me a shot at playing Beater, but he did. And I proved him right."

"Charlie still has the scar to prove it," added Bill. He and Nymphadora both laughed. "Let's go say hello."

"We'll be back in a few minutes," said Nymphadora lightly, as she and Bill with Fleur tagging along headed toward their old friend.

It was at times like this when Remus remembered just how vast a gulf separated him from Nymphadora. He had been out of Hogwarts for nearly six years before she even began school there. Before she had grown out of girlhood he had already lost all of his dearest friends, his family, and so much more.

Before she had ever had her first boyfriend, he had already given up on love forever. Or so he had told himself.

_Why did I let my guard down? Why did I let myself relax enough to start fancying someone so young?_

He thought knew the answer—it had to be Sirius. He had been twenty-one when he was locked away in Azkaban, and had never really matured beyond that point. And the more time Remus had spent around him lately, the more his own long lonely years seemed to melt away. He'd begun to feel like a young man all over again. But standing there in the club, watching Nymphadora mix and mingle with people from her own generation, he felt like the thirteen years that separated them were a vast ravine that he could never hope to bridge, no matter how much he might like to.

He cringed as another former student walked by, giving him another strange look. _Maybe a third Firewhiskey wouldn't be so bad, after all._

Sirius, on the other hand, seemed delighted by everything going on around him. He was staring around the club with a wide grin on his face, occasionally locking eyes with a pretty witch to flirt from afar.

Remus took the time to survey the crowd himself, and, just as he feared, his former students appeared to make up a sizable portion of the crowd. He sighed—at least there were plenty of dark booths to hide in.

"Isn't it fantastic, Moony?" said Sirius.

"Yes. Fantastic," responded Remus.

Sirius appeared to miss his friend's tone of voice, because he continued gushing. "It's just like old times—music, and drinks, and fun. I can hardly believe I'm really here. It's like a dream come true. And would you just look around you?"

"I'm looking," said Remus, still seeking out the faces of his old students.

"They're everywhere!"

"That they are," agreed Remus morosely.

"I've never seen a collection of this many beautiful girls in my life!"

"Girls?" Remus blinked in confusion—maybe two Firewhiskeys really had been enough.

Sirius barked in laughter. "Of course, girls. Who did you think I was talking about?"

Remus shook his head. "No one—nothing."

"Moony—I know that look. It's the _I'm really glad you're having fun but I wish I could curl up under a rock and hide_ look. You used to get it all the time back at Hogwarts. So what exactly am I doing to embarrass you this time?" asked Sirius. Even through his new face, Remus could see his irritation.

Remus sighed. "It's not—it's not you. It's just… I've noticed…" He rubbed his forehead, as Sirius continued to stare at him. "I've noticed some of my old Hogwarts students here in the crowd."

Sirius laughed. "Is that all? What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that they're staring at me."

"And?"  
"And… and… well, thanks to Severus they all know I'm a werewolf! And they're all seeing me in this absurd outfit! They probably all think I'm some sort of deviant!" Remus said.

Sirius laughed even harder. "A deviant? Merlin's beard Remus—you have way too much imagination."

"What?"

"They're probably just thinking—_Wow, I knew he was a cool teacher, but I didn't know he was cool enough to come to a Weird Sisters concert with a bunch of hot-looking young friends. Maybe I should have paid more attention in his class_!" Sirius was chuckling jovially.

Remus shook his head. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Of course I do! Oh, there might be one or two of them that are as paranoid and suspicious as you are, but most of them are probably just surprised to see their favorite teacher someplace like this."

With a smile growing on his face, Remus replied, "As much as I appreciate the flattery, I doubt I was their favorite—at least not for all of them."

"Oh, Snape probably managed to turn all the Slytherins against you, but I'm sure you were favorite to the rest. You were certainly the Weasley kids' favorite. And Hermione's. And Harry's," said Sirius.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Oh yeah! They all gushed about you when you weren't around."

Remus was beginning to feel a lot better. Harry's favorite? And the Weasleys'? And Hermione's? He didn't know what he'd done to earn that honor, but it certainly cheered him up to know it. And maybe Sirius was right about the other kids as well—maybe they really were surprised to see their old favorite at a concert. A slow smile spread on his face. "So—I'm the cool teacher."

Sirius laughed. "Now you're getting it! You're the coolest of the cool! Could you have ever seen any of our old professors showing up at a rock concert?"

Remus shook his head, "Goodness no! Not in a million years."

"And what other Hogwarts teacher would look that good in leather trousers?"

Remus burst out laughing. "You just gave me an awful vision of Severus in this outfit!"

"Oh, Lord no!" exclaimed Sirius. "Don't turn my stomach before I even have the chance to get drunk first!" The two old friends were still laughing when Sirius glanced eagerly at the nearest stairs to the dance floor. "Hey, Moony—are those two birds some of your old students?" He pointed at two lovely, scantily-clad witches coming up the stairs.

Remus blinked in astonishment at seeing them dressed—almost _undressed_—in something other than their school robes. "Y-yes," he stammered. "They were in my Newt-level class."

"And they're headed right toward us," said Sirius. "Now remember—you were the cool teacher, and now you're the cool older man-of-the-world. Got it? Don't blow this one for me, Moony."

"I'll do my best not to drive them away," Remus replied hastily as the two girls drew close to them.

"Professor Lupin?" said one of the girls—a short brunette with ample curves in all the right places.

"Yes indeed! Miss … Corrington?" Remus tried to sound as casual and relaxed as possible, even though his stomach seemed to be tying itself in knots.

"You remember us!" said Miss Corrington with a bright smile, clapping her hands and bouncing distractingly. Remus could feel Sirius nudging him lightly in the side.

"Of course I remember you—and Miss Ablewood," he added with a nod to the taller, more slender blonde. _I was the cool teacher. They all liked me. I was the cool teacher…_ He kept up the silent mantra, trying to make himself feel more comfortable. It wasn't working.

"Oh, you can call us Eva and Millie, now, Professor," said Miss Ablewood, leaning toward him with a smile.

Sirius' nudging grew more pronounced. "Eva, Millie," said Remus, forcing a bright smile on his face, "allow me to introduce a friend of mine—Colin Weasley." Sirius took his cue, and stepped forward with a bow.

"Good evening, ladies," he said in his exaggerated Irish accent. He took each of the girl's hands in turn. "So lovely to meet you. I've been overseas for many a year, and your beautiful smiles remind me that the most precious jewels in all the world are not to be found in exotic climes, but in the land I left behind."

Both of the girls giggled and jiggled appropriately in response, and Remus sighed. Apparently being the "cool teacher," meant being able to set his friend up with a bevy of girls half his age.

"So are you related to Percy Weasley?" asked Eva—the shorter of the two.

Sirius sighed. "I'm sorry to say, I am. He's a cousin of mine, whether I like it or not."

The girls laughed, and Millie said, "We never much cared for him either. I still don't know what Penelope saw in him—she's an old friend of ours that used to go out with him," she added as an aside to Sirius.

The girls continued to flirt with his handsomely disguised friend for a few more moments when, much to Remus' surprise, Millie turned back to him. "I was so sad when you had to leave Hogwarts, Professor." She edged closer to him. "You were my little brother's favorite teacher, and he was so disappointed not to have you around for his OWL-year."

"Well, I was sorry to go, but it was an…unfortunate necessity." Remus attempted to inch unobtrusively away, but, to his dismay, found his retreat blocked by the crush of customers surrounding the bar. Millie smiled widely, and moved in to an uncomfortably close proximity.

"Such a shame, Remus—may I call you Remus?" she asked.

"Of—of course."

"What have you been doing since?" she asked.

Remus coughed in hesitation. Time for some creative half-truths. "Well," he began, "I did odd jobs for a while, and looked after a property I own. Lately I've been translating some academic texts from German." There. That sounded suitably impressive. _Maybe I can pull this off after all._

"That's wonderful!" exclaimed Millie, leaning even closer and resting her hand lightly on his arm. He immediately began to tense up. She continued to speak. "It's good that you're getting by so well, in spite of the Ministry. Personally, I think that the Ministry has been dreadfully unfair to Lycans. When the proper precautions are taken you're just as capable of contributing to society as any ordinary wizard," she said, drawing closer to him.

"Well, thank you for the sentiment…" he began, but she interrupted him.

"I actually think that in _some_ ways Lycans function even _better_ than ordinary wizards. I dated a Lycan for six months earlier this year, and it was a most—enlightening—experience." Millie was now leaning against the bar right next to him, her eyes roaming up and down his body, and her cleavage bulging dangerously. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing physique for a man your age?" she asked, stroking his arm lightly with her finger. "One of the benefits of the condition—or so I've been told."

"Well… I … I…" Remus was at a complete loss for words. He averted his eyes from her chest, and tried to edge away from her—but the bar was dreadfully crowded. He had heard that there were women who sought out Lycans for lovers, with the belief that the condition increased the men's sexual prowess—but he had never met one before now. And she was his old student! Apparently being the "cool teacher" had its downside. He glanced toward Sirius, looking for help, but his friend seemed engrossed in Eva and her curves.

He turned back to Millie, still unsure of what to say to her hungrily smiling face, when his young friends made a timely return.

"Is that little Millie Ablewood?" said Bill loudly, striding up. "Why, I haven't seen you since Percy's birthday party six years ago. My you've grown!"

Millie glared at him, and answered, "Hello, Bill."

"Remus—can you believe that last time I saw her, Millie still had her hair up in pig-tails, and was afraid to pet our neighbor's dog? And just look at her now." Bill was grinning, and Remus was beginning to feel much more relaxed. It was good to have friends.

"There's no shame in being afraid of dogs, Miss Ablewood," replied Remus, stressing the formal name. "There's nothing wrong with having a well-regulated sense of caution around canines—you can never be certain what they might do next."

Nymphadora, who had joined them during Bill's last comment, appeared to be turning red with barely contained laughter. She walked up to Remus and leaned against him with an air of casual possessiveness. Remus decided to play along, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Millie's expression was growing dark, and she straightened up, allowing her cleavage to recede to a safer level of containment. She seemed get the hint.

"Apparently not," she said. "Nice to see you again, _Professor_, but we promised to meet some friends." She pushed away from the bar and pulled the protesting Eva back into the thickening crowd.

"What was that all about?" exclaimed Sirius indignantly.

"We were just extricating Remus from a sticky situation—that's all," said Nymphadora, snuggling deeper into Remus' embrace. It felt wonderful, and supremely comfortable in comparison to his close encounter with Millie Ablewood.

"Well, you also managed to extricate a very lovely young lady from me!" Even through his charming mask, Remus could see the anger on Sirius' face.

"There will be others, my friend," Remus said. "With a face like that, it's practically a guarantee. Besides," he added, "she was too young for you. She wasn't even twenty—barely more than a child!"

An outraged huff burst from Fleur's mouth, and Remus could feel himself flushing in embarrassment. He had forgotten just how young Bill's girlfriend really was. Bill wrapped an arm protectively around her, and spoke up quickly. "Some ladies that age may seem very young—but I assure you that I have met some who are extremely mature, and competent, and intelligent. I wouldn't be so quick to judge all women that age by the same standard."

Fleur melted into Bill's side, giving him a sparkling grin. "'E is very right, Remus. Perhaps ze problem is not with ze young women—but with ze older men?" With her final comment she gave Remus a venomous glare.

"You might be right about that, Fleur," replied Remus, removing his arm from Nymphadora's waist so that he could step forward. "In fact I may have just proved your point. You have my sincerest apology."

"Apology accepted," she replied, her stiff expression softening. "Now let us get down to ze floor before all ze good places are taken!"

"Come on," said Nymphadora, taking Remus by one arm and Sirius by the other, "Let's go. The Hobgoblins are about to start their set."

They spent the next few minutes wading through the jostling crowd of rowdy young wizards and witches and columns of ghostly flame, until they arrived at a position that Fleur declared had an adequate view of the stage. Here, closer to the stage, Remus noticed that he wasn't the only person his age in the crowd. Actually there were quiet a few people his age—they simply all happened to be women wearing t-shirts bearing slogans along the lines of "Save Stubby!" and "Support Sirius!". This didn't help him feel any less out of place.

Sirius quickly detached himself from Nymphadora's arm, and edged his way closer to a group of attractive young witches standing nearby. Remus smiled as he watched his friend go—Sirius always had been something of a ladies' man. Twelve years in Azkaban seemed to have done nothing to diminish his appetites.

"Look—it's starting!" said Nymphadora, just as the stage burst into life with billowing plumes of green flame stretching from floor to ceiling.

Gradually, the flames in the center of the stage diminished to reveal a six-man ensemble. A drummer and his kit sat on an elevated dais in the center of the stage, flanked by two guitarists and, astonishingly, an accordion player. In the front center of the stage stood Stubby Boardman himself.


	8. Conversations at a Darkened Table

Chapter 7: Conversations at a Darkened Table.

As the drummer began his repetitive beat, and the guitarists strummed the opening chords, the crowd let out a deafening cheer—led by the shrieking Boardmaniacs crowding around the stage. A team of eight orange-clad security wizards stood along the front of the stage with wands drawn, holding the crazy fans at bay.

Remus looked on in delight as Boardman began to sing his opening song, barely audible above the screaming crowd. The man really did look shockingly like Sirius. He was tall and lean, with pale skin. Long back hair hung in limp locks around his narrow face. He was clad in skin-tight black, topped off with a black overcoat of the sort that would have looked more at home on an American cowboy than on an English rock singer.

The cheers were too loud for Remus to make out all of the lyrics, but the song seemed to be some sort of rousing tune about soaring over the ocean on a broom. He swayed and nodded along with the rest of the crowd, but decided to reserve judgment about whether or not he liked them until he had heard more songs.

Nymphadora seemed equally skeptical, watching the performance with a rather subdued expression on her face. Bill was dancing, but appearded to be doing it more to please his screaming and bouncing girlfriend than because he genuinely enjoyed the song. Sirius—in the small glimpses of him that Remus could get—was dancing enthusiastically. But Remus suspected that his exuberance was primarily a result of enjoying the company of the five lovely young witches who had surrounded him.

As the opening song ended, the crowd let loose another torrent of screams and applause. Boardman, a surprisingly stiff and expressionless performer, actually seemed vaguely embarrassed by his fan-following. He quickly launched the group into another up tempo number; this one seemed to be about evading the schemes of a "black magic woman."

Unable to converse over the din, Remus and Nymphadora continued to listen, swaying and nodding along to the beat of the rather silly song. Though more than half of the crowd was dancing enthusiastically, Remus began to notice more and more of the concert-goers responding to the music with indifference similar to his own. And some of them were even leaving the dance floor.

The applause and cheers at the conclusion of this song were loud, but not as loud as they had been for the first. The Hobgoblins then moved into a ballad—a rather insipid song about lost love and wasted years. Remus sighed, and folded his arms.

Nymphadora nudged him, and he leaned over to listen to her. "You know," she said, "they're really not very good."

"No. Not at all."

"Do you want to go sit down?" She gestured toward the dark tables surrounding the dance floor.

"Definitely. Let's go."

They worked their way off the dance floor. As they left, Remus noticed that Bill and Fleur looked like they were enjoying the slow dance immensely, and Sirius had picked one lucky girl from his new fan club to favor with a dance. _At least _someone_ is enjoying this music._

Nymphadora led the way up the stairs, and found them an empty table for two alongside the railing overlooking the dance floor. As they sank into their chairs, Remus noticed that the music seemed considerably quieter on this level of the club—undoubtedly it was enveloped in a volume-reducing charm, so that the bar patrons could talk without being drowned out by the bands.

"Much better," said Nymphadora. "I'm beginning to think that the Hobgoblins should have _stayed _retired."

"I'm in complete agreement on that point. For a popular band, they're a remarkably untalented bunch."

Nymphadora quirked a smile. "Maybe they all graduated from Blue Sky."

They laughed at her joke as a cocktail waitress approached them, asking if they wanted anything to drink. Nymphadora ordered a pint of lager, and Remus decided to follow suit. A third drink wouldn't be so bad—after all, lager was considerably weaker than Firewhiskey.

As they waited for their drinks, Nymphadora said, "My friend Eddy Balfour is engaged. His fiancé is Fleur's age."

"Really?" asked Remus. "I was likely her teacher for a year. What's her name?"

"Felicia Vane," she replied.

Remus nodded. "Felicia Vane—I remember her. She was in my NEWT-level class. A fair student, but a little unfocused. She didn't seem to know what she wanted to do with her life."

"Well, she's found her calling now, and his name is Eddy Balfour."

"It still astonishes me that all these young ladies are really old enough to be getting engaged and married. But then, I suppose James and Lily weren't much older when they married, and at the time I didn't have a single qualm about it. It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose."

Nymphadora nodded. She fixed him with an odd expression, and asked an even odder question. "So—do you think Fleur is too young for Bill?"

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well—I don't know if I've ever thought about it before. Molly certainly thinks she is."

"I know how Molly feels," stated Nymphadora. "For a while she thought she could get him to chuck Fleur by doing her best to set him up with me."

"Really?" asked Remus, surprised by this bit of information.

She nodded. "That's why Fleur doesn't like me. She still thinks I'm trying to steal Bill away from her."

"But you're not! Are you?"

Nymphadora shut both her eyes and her mouth tightly, as if trying to restrain herself from some sort of outburst. "For a man with a reputation as an intellect, you can be amazingly daft sometimes."

Remus could tell that he had unwittingly dug a hole for himself, and was still pondering how to get out of it when their drinks arrived. Nymphadora took a few large gulps of her lager, and then returned to staring tight-lipped and grim down at their table. Remus toyed with his glass, but didn't drink.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was a ridiculous thing for me to say, and I apologize. I feel like I've been saying and doing a great many ridiculous things tonight—even before I drank that Firewhiskey. You have my permission to ignore everything else I have to say tonight, as I'm certain very little of it will have any sense behind it."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile, and she replied, "Apology accepted. And I'm sure I won't have to ignore _everything_ you say—just most of it."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," he said, smiling back.

They both took a sip of their drinks, and Nymphadora spoke again. "You never did give me a straight answer to my question, you know. Do you think Fleur is too young for Bill?" Remus had the strange feeling that the answer to this question was important to her, so he took his time pondering the matter before answering.

Finally, he said, "Probably not."

"_Probably_ not? What exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"Well—they're nearly seven years different in age, if I recall correctly. For some people, that age difference could potentially cause enormous problems. But for the right people, it would be no trouble at all. I simply don't know Fleur well enough to know for certain if she is mature enough to get past the age gap or not."

"So in your opinion it has less to do with age difference than with emotional maturity?"

Remus nodded. "That, and their positions in society, the compatibility of their goals and ambitions—that sort of thing."

Nymphadora looked pensive. "Then," she said, "you don't think that a large age difference matters if the couple is sufficiently compatible in other ways?"

Remus shook his head slowly. "The age difference still matters—it could cause problems with their families, for instance. Or inspire prejudice or harsh judgment in their peers. But if a couple truly had enough in common, and was truly determined to make their relationship work, then all the problems caused by a large age difference could be overcome." Remus considered his words carefully as he spoke. He was getting the feeling that Nymphadora was thinking not so much of Bill and Fleur, as of her own interest in "older men." Perhaps it was because of the drinks, but he was beginning to hope that her choice of an older man might possibly lead her to himself. But that was probably just wistful thinking—or was it?

She nodded silently in response, and then looked back out at the stage. They both took a few more sips of their drinks in thoughtful silence. Remus looked down at the table, and saw her hand resting not far from his own. Her fingers looked thin and pale against the shiny black of the table top. They looked lonely. He turned back toward the stage, and pretended to be interested in the music while he slowly began to edge his hand closer to hers. _You're just setting yourself up for rejection_, his mind tried to tell him, but for once, he didn't feel like listening. He kept moving his hand forward slowly, drawing closer to hers centimeter by centimeter. At last, he felt his fingertips graze hers, sending a tiny thrill through his whole body. Forcing himself not to look down at the table, he moved his hand a few centimeters further, until his fingers were fully covering hers. They were warmer than he expected. He sat like that for what seemed like a small eternity, staring insensibly at the band, feeling her warm, slender fingers beneath his own. Then, without warning, her hand moved—but not to pull away. Instead, she turned her hand palm up, and grasped his hand tightly in hers.

He looked down at their entwined hands, his heart starting to speed up, and then turned to look her in the eye. She was staring right at him with a puzzling expression on her face. She looked almost—nervous?

Still trying to assess the meaning of the look on her face, Remus felt his own apprehension growing. He had held her hand before—but always it had been a gesture of comfort, or solidarity, or friendship. He longed to open his mouth and tell her that tonight it meant so much more—but he didn't have the words. Or the courage. _In my youth, I once held firm before half-a-dozen murderous Death Eaters—so now why can't I even work up the courage to say a few simple words?_

Nymphadora was the first one to break the silence. "Remus," she said, hesitantly, "There's something I need to tell you."

She still looked extremely nervous, and Remus had a feeling that whatever she was about to say, it was going to be very important to them both. Either she was about to reject him, or—if dreams really could come true—she just might do something quite the opposite.

"Of course, anything," he responded, trying to keep his voice steady. He caught himself holding his breath in anticipation of her next words.

"Well…the thing is…I don't know if this is something you ever wanted to hear, but—" she was cut off before she even got going by the thunderous roar of the crowd. Apparently the Hobgoblins had just finished their set, and not even the sound dampening charm was enough to soften the uproarious cheers and applause of their adoring fans.

Remus had never hated a musical group so much as he hated the Hobgoblins at that moment.

He waited with clenched teeth while the band left the stage and the cheering died down. Nymphadora sent him a small, apologetic smile. When the noise had receded enough to make conversation possible again, Remus tightened his clasp around her hand, and leaned toward her. "So, what was it that you were trying to tell me?"

She lowered her eyes, looking atypically shy. "I…" She was interrupted again, this time by a nearby cry of "Tonks!"

They looked up to see her old Quidditch captain, Eddy Balfour, rapidly approaching with Felicia Vane and several other hangers-on in tow. Remus self-consciously withdrew his hands from Tonks' as the group approached them.

"Wotcher, Tonks!" cried Eddy enthusiastically as he reached their table.

"Hello again, Eddy. You look like a jolly bunch!" replied Tonks, looking as cheerful as ever. Her change of mood was so sudden, that Remus wondered if it was just a façade, or if she really was relieved at having the task of rejecting him mercifully delayed.

"We have every reason to be, now that that pathetic lot has left the stage," said Eddy.

"No joke. I would have had to conjure myself a good pair of earmuffs if they'd gone on much longer," replied Tonks.

"But now comes the fun," said Eddy. "The Weird Sisters should be on in a few minutes. We're all heading down to get us a good spot before they start. Would you and your friend like to join us?"

Remus' first impulse was to snarl something along the lines of, _"Of course not you interfering git! Can't you see we were in the middle of an important conversation?"_, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he looked back at Nymphadora with as neutral an expression as he could muster, and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"It sounds like a smashing idea to me," she said brightly. "What do you think, Remus?" She added the question in a softer, more tentative tone.

It was no façade—she was definitely relieved to have the inevitable rejection delayed. With a tight, forced smile he glanced back at Eddy and his friends. They were all young, attractive, stylishly dressed, and wearing the eager smiles of people ready to have a good time.

He turned back to Nymphadora, looking as beautiful and full of life as he had ever seen her. She didn't belong with him—old, gray, scarred, and poor, with nothing but a life of hardship ahead of him. She belonged with those eager young people, with their whole bright lives ahead of them. What had he been thinking? She was smart enough to know better than to saddle herself with a burden like him.

"Yes," he forced himself to respond. "We should definitely get down there."

She nodded with a smile, and rose to join her young friends. When he didn't move, she said, "Well, aren't you coming?"

"I will," he said quickly, "I'm just going to finish my drink first. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes." There—that would give her the excuse she needed to go without him. But she seemed disappointed, the smile vanishing from her face.

"Are you sure? Do you really want to stay here all by yourself?"

He nodded. "It doesn't bother me. What does bother me is leaving behind a perfectly good drink that I've hardly touched."

"I'll stay with you—we can find Eddy later."

"No—no. I know how excited you are about the Weird Sisters, and I don't want you to miss a single moment of them. You go with your friends, and I'll find you when I'm done with my drink."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Are you sure you'll be able to find me?"

He smiled. "I can always find you," he said with complete truth. He could pick her out in any crowd, no matter how she looked.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if you don't show up—I'll come looking for you."

"Then I'd better keep my promise."

"Yes, you should."

All the while her young friends had looked on with mild impatience. Finally, Eddy broke in. "Are you ready then?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Let's go."

Suddenly, Felicia Vane spoke up, pointing at Remus. "Hey! I know you! You used to teach at Hogwarts!"

"Yes. Yes I did," answered Remus, his whole body tensing up at the thoughtless tone of her voice.

"And didn't you have to quit because you got bit by a werewolf, or something?" she continued loudly.

He coughed uncomfortably as he felt the eyes of everyone nearby turning to stare at him. "Something like that, yes."

"So how's that working out?" she asked in her unreasonably loud voice. "The whole werewolf thing?"

"As well as can be expected," he said tightly.

Nymphadora's face was turning red, and her eyes look fierce. She looked like she was about to speak, and Remus placed a restraining hand on her arm and shook his head slightly at her. The last thing he wanted now was for her to make a bad situation worse by starting a row.

"Hey, love," broke in Eddy, trying to restrain his tactless fiancée, "maybe we should get going now, before the floor is too crowded."

"Okay!" she said brightly, in what appeared to be her usual brain-dead tone. "See ya later, Professor!"

Remus gave her a terse nod.

"Remus… are you sure…?" asked Nymphadora, hovering between the table and Eddy's group.

"Go on. I'll see you soon," he replied firmly.

Felicia and most of the group had moved away from their table toward the dance floor, but Eddy lingered behind with a sheepish expression on his face.

"Sorry about that," he said. "She gets like that when she's had too much to drink. I'm thinking of making her drink soft drinks at our wedding."

"That might be a good idea," said Nymphadora.

"So… do you still want to join us?" Eddy asked warily.

"Of course we do," said Remus, before Nymphadora had a chance to reply. He turned to look up at her. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up as soon as I've finished my drink."

She still looked uneasy, but finally nodded and turned to follow Eddy and the others. She glanced anxiously over her shoulder at him, and he gave her an encouraging smile and a little wave. She smiled back, and looked away. Just as the group reached the stairs, Felicia fell in beside Nymphadora, and asked in her horribly loud voice, "So is he your uncle or something?"

Remus' back stiffened at the awful question, and he watched tensely as they melded into the seething throng on the dance floor. Of course he had to be a relative. Why else would someone like _her_ be spending time with someone like _him._

All his excited hope from a few minutes earlier had drained from him, and all that was left was an empty, dried-out shell of a man. _I learned years ago that isolation and prejudice were all that life had to offer me. Why did I ever forget? Why did I ever fool myself into thinking there could be something more—something better? I should have stayed home when they gave me chance. I might have been just as lonely, but at least I wouldn't have been publicly humiliated._

As he sat, staring miserably down into his glass of lager, he began to seriously contemplate the possibility of simply Apparating home now, to spare himself any further humiliation or heartache. He could deal with his friends' outrage at his disappearance later—when he was feeling more rational, and more sober.

He continued to turn the possibility of leaving over in his mind for a few more minutes, still unsure of what to do. His reverie was broken when the crowd burst out in cheers as the Weird Sisters took the stage.

Most of the eyes in the house were fixed on the band as they began to play, but not Remus'. Instead, he began to scan the surging crowd of fans filling up the dance floor. At last, he found her. She was surrounded by Eddy Balfour's little entourage, and was dancing to the music like the rest of the crowd. She looked very young, and very happy. And she should be. She was where she belonged.

As the surging beat and rhythms of the music filled the club, Remus was able to temporarily forget his melancholy and fell into something of a trance, staring intently at Nymphadora's distant dancing figure. She would never win any awards for grace, but her dancing was full of an enchanting feeling of life and energy.

Watching her move under the dim, shimmering lights called up another recent memory of watching her dance—the memory of his dream from a few days earlier. He could remember seeing the glow of the moonlight on her bare skin as clearly as if it had actually happened.

He allowed himself to focus on the memory of her soft curves. He let himself imagine, for just a moment, what it would be like to touch her—to feel her body moving beneath his own.

But with a sudden jarring blare of the bagpipes he shook the fantasy from his mind. He shouldn't let himself dwell on the impossible. In real life, just like in his dream, the arrival of the wolf always ruined any happiness he might have hoped for. The wolf had ruined things with Shari all those years ago, and any relationship that he started now would be no different. He could have no lasting happiness with Nymphadora, or with anyone else. A werewolf's bite had seen to that more than thirty years ago.

Remus turned his attention back to his neglected drink, and took a long swig from his glass. _I can't leave now—no matter how much I want to. I'll just have to try to put on a cheerful face for Sirius; he deserves all the happiness he can get on his first real birthday celebration in more than fourteen years._

As he was taking another gulp of his lager, he was startled to hear a man's voice nearby saying, "Professor Lupin?"

He looked up to see another of his former students, the Scottish Quidditch enthusiast, Oliver Wood.

"Mr. Wood!" he exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. "How good to see you again!"

"I thought that was you, Professor. How are you?" Wood said, holding out his hand.

Remus reached out for the young man's offered hand, and received a hearty handshake. It was a very heartening gesture—most people who knew of his "condition" avoided touching him. Even several members of the Order were reticent and distant around him. But never Nymphadora. Her eagerness to accept him, and her willingness to touch him, were the first things that had drawn him to her as a friend—and had undoubtedly been the key reasons for the heightened intensity of his feelings in the past few weeks.

He needed to stop thinking about Nymphadora. Wood was offering him a distraction, and he needed to take advantage of it.

"I'm doing well, quite well. And how are things going with Puddlemere United?" asked Remus.

"You follow Quidditch?" said Wood, with a bright smile.

"I do indeed. And I read not long ago that you are considered the most promising young player on the Puddlemere Reserve team."

Wood shook his head, and humbly replied, "I do my best. That's all."

"Well, I've little doubt that your best will soon earn you a place on a First Team somewhere in the league."

"Thank you, Professor. I'm certainly trying my hardest. And how have things been going for you, since leaving Hogwarts?"

"Oh—it's been up and down a bit, as you could guess, given the circumstances of my departure. But it's been more up than down lately. I've been doing some work as a translator of academic texts. Not as exciting as playing professional Quidditch, but it keeps food on the table," replied Remus.

"What language do you translate?"

"German, lately. I've also done some translation work in French and Latin."

"Wow—I can barely manage one language properly. I can't imagine working in three," said Wood.

"My parents spent a lot of time teaching me as a child—if I hadn't started that young, I never would have gained fluency in so many languages."

Wood nodded, with a smile. Remus was happy to see one of his old students seem so much at ease with him. He had worried that none of them would be able to see past his lycanthropy—but clearly that was not the case.

"So, Professor… I was wondering if that was Tonks that I saw you with a few minutes ago?" asked Wood.

Remus had to force himself to keep smiling. Nymphadora was the last person he had wanted to talk about right now. He nodded. "Yes—yes it was. Are you and Tonks acquainted?"

"A bit," said Wood. "I can't say that I really _knew_ her at Hogwarts, but I did make the Gryffindor team early enough to play against her a few times. She had quite a way with a bat."

"I've no doubt she did," replied Remus with a chuckle.

"So what does she do now?"

"Actually, she's an Auror."

Wood's eyes widened. "Really? I never would have pictured her as one to spend her life chasing after Dark Wizards."

"Well, she is. And quite good at it, too," said Remus, feeling somewhat defensive on her behalf.

"Yeah. I bet," said Wood. "Y'know, I wanted to ask you a question. I wanted to know if the two of you were here…together? Like on a date?"

Remus knew he should have seen this coming—but he hadn't. He tried hard not to let his surprise show on his face. "No, Mr. Wood. Tonks and I are just friends. That's all." The words felt like bricks dropping from his tongue.

"Well then—I've got a mate from my team who wanted to meet her. He was a Ravenclaw Beater for three years before her, and he said he's always wanted to meet the little girl who replaced him. His words, not mine," said Wood. "So if she's not here with you, do you think it would be alright if he asked her to dance?"

Remus coughed a little. He'd have to get used to this sort of thing if he was going to get over her. He'd best start now, and get it over with it. "I'm sure she'd be more than willing to meet your friend, Mr. Wood," said Remus, keeping most of the bitterness out of his voice.

"Great! Great, Professor," said Wood with a relieved smile. "Thanks. I'll go tell him now. And nice seeing you again!" he added as he turned away.

"Likewise," said Remus softly, with a nod. _My God, I wish this night was over. I can't take much more of this._

Remus knew he should feel good about the fact that the young men actually thought that Nymphadora would come with him as a date. But instead, all he could feel was hard, cold, jealousy. He took a few more gulps of his lager, and wondered if it would be a good idea to order another when this one was gone.

"You spineless git!" said an angry voice as two hands slammed suddenly down onto the table in front of him, sloshing his drink violently.

Remus looked up at the angry face glaring down at him, and blinked in temporary disorientation until he realized that he was looking up at the tan, blue-eyed face of the disguised Sirius.

"What…?"

"Oh, you know exactly what!" Sirius interrupted him viciously.

"No, actually, I'm afraid I don't," replied Remus, beginning to get angry himself at his friend's unreasonable tone.

"Did I, or did I not just hear you turning a pack of Quidditch clods loose on Tonks—and right after you abandoned her to those brats out on the dance floor?"

"I didn't … that's not what happened!"

"Really? Because, to me, it looks like that's exactly what happened," said Sirius.

Remus felt himself becoming even angrier. Why was tonight suddenly the official "Torture Lupin" night? "I have not abandoned her! I'm going to join her as soon as I've finished my drink! And if those blokes want to ask her to dance, then it's up to her to say yes or no—not me! I've got nothing to do with it!"

"Nothing to do with it?" asked Sirius incredulously. "How can you say that? You fancy her, don't you?"

The last question caught Remus completely off guard. He sat there staring, open-mouthed, up at the chiseled god-like face without the slightest idea how to respond.

"Well don't you?" pressed Sirius.

The glare from that golden face was too much for Remus, and he finally relented with a hint of resentment in his voice. "Well, yes. How did you know?"

It was Sirius' turn to look surprised. "How did I know! Maybe it's the way you take a deep breath every time she walks in the room, to get a good whiff of her perfume. Or the way you ruin every good conversation we have by interjecting 'I wish Tonks was here for this.' Or possibly it's the way you let her wrap you around her little finger every time she wants something. It's pretty damn obvious to me and everyone else who knows you that you fancy her! What's not obvious is why you sicced that pack of gorillas on the girl that you should be keeping all to yourself!"

"Because it doesn't matter how I feel!" Remus. "All that matters is how _she_ feels—and there is no way that she would rather be with an aging, unemployed werewolf than with a young healthy man with a promising future. So they're welcome to her! She can dance with as many of them as she likes! It's not my choice!"

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "Are you out of your bloody mind? Haven't you realized by now that she planned this night as much for you as for me? She doesn't want to be with those blokes—she wants to be with you! How can you be so willfully blind that you don't see that? I can't believe you used to have the reputation of being the brains of the Marauders. You haven't got a speck of sense in your whole head."

Remus was stunned into submission. "Are you saying that… that she fancies me too?"

"So _now_ you figure it out. My God!"

"But… How do you know? Are you sure? You're not just joking with me?"

The Adonis-faced Sirius continued to stare at him with an expression of annoyed astonishment.

"Well…what am I supposed to do now?" Remus asked, his mind suddenly blank.

Sirius slapped his palm to his forehead and shook his head. "Great Merlin, man! What the hell is wrong with you today? Are you a Marauder, or a mouse? I'm really starting to wonder if you still deserve the title of Marauder at all! Just get off your pathetic arse and _do_ something." With that, Sirius turned and began to stalk away.

Remus rose from his chair hastily, his mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts. "Siri—Colin! Wait!" he cried.

His disguised friend turned back with a frown. "Why should I? This conversation is going nowhere, and I have a beautiful young woman waiting for me at the bar." He wagged his pointing finger at Remus' face. "I'm not going to let you ruin tonight for me—no matter what! Now go solve your own problem, for once."

Sirius turned again, and left Remus standing there alone, feeling more agitated and overwhelmed then he had since that night in the Shrieking Shack a year and a half ago.


	9. An Unexpected Friend

Chapter 8: An Unexpected Friend

Remus sank slowly back into his chair. Could it be true? Could Sirius possibly be right? Did Nymphadora really fancy him as much as he fancied her?

He knew that they had grown very close over the past few months—but he had sincerely believed that the closeness went no further than friendship on her part. Even the times when it seemed like she might feel something more for him, he had convinced himself that it was more of a sisterly affection. Over the past few hours he had come to hope that she would be open to the possibility of becoming something more than friends—but it had never occurred to him that she might have felt that way even before he did.

Sirius had known that Remus' feelings had gone beyond friendship even before Remus knew it for himself. So could he also be right about Nymphadora?

Remus felt like his head was spinning as he tried desperately to sift through his memories of the past month to find for himself evidence of Nymphadora's feelings for him. But should he really just be sitting here thinking? Shouldn't he follow Sirius' advice, and "get off his arse and do something"?

He looked back toward the dance floor, searching once more for Nymphadora's distant figure. It only took a moment. She was still near Balfour's gang, but now she was dancing alongside a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man—undoubtedly Wood's Quidditch mate. She looked like she was smiling. She looked happy.

Remus' face fell. Sirius couldn't possibly be right. If she really fancied him, then why had she seemed so eager to join Balfour's group instead of finishing their conversation? And why was she now dancing so happily with her handsome new admirer? _Maybe she wanted to go with Balfour because she was afraid that _I _was going to reject _her_? And maybe she's only dancing with that bloke to be polite?_

Remus shook his head in confusion. He still had difficultly believing Sirius' assertions—no matter how much he wanted to. It was so hard to trust his old friend's judgment these days.

And what about Sirius' comment about solving his own problems "for once"? Remus' friends may have played the part of caretakers during their school years—but he had taken perfectly good care of himself for a decade and a half. And for the past half year he had even become Sirius' caretaker—working to keep his restless and unstable friend from doing anything that would endanger himself and the Order. How dare he start treating Remus like the shy and insecure boy he once was?

He gulped down the rest of his lager, and slammed his mug down on the table. He was wondering whether another pint of lager would give him sufficient courage to either cut in on Nymphadora's dance with the tall Quidditch player, or to sock Sirius in the face, when he was interrupted by an unexpected question.

"Professor Lupin? Are you okay?" asked the soft feminine voice.

_Please, not another student,_ he thought. He gritted his teeth and slowly raised his head.

As his eyes finally locked onto the face of his questioner, he felt a great wave of relief surging through his body. "Desdemona!" he exclaimed with a genuine smile.

"Professor!" said the petite young brunette with a bright, dimpled smile. "I'm so glad you remember me."

"How could I forget you, Desdemona?" replied Remus. Desdemona had been, next to Harry, his favorite student at Hogwarts. The quiet Hufflepuff fifth-year girl had outwardly seemed like the last person to be considered "popular" in the traditional sense—but Remus had soon discovered that all of her housemates had entrusted her with their most closely held secrets. She was dearly beloved by her housemates and friends, but unfortunately not by her own family, an ancient clan of pure-blooded Slytherins who were perpetually disappointed in her.

She had been struggling with her classwork, and had been in dread of failing all of her OWLs when Remus took her under his wing. He had helped her to find tutors for all of her more difficult subjects, and helped fill in the gaps with some tutoring sessions of his own. One of his brightest moments the summer after leaving Hogwarts was when he had received a letter from Desdemona announcing with delight that she had passed all but one of her OWLs, and had even gotten three "Es", including one in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But that was the last time that he had heard from her—until tonight.

"Oh, Professor, we're not in school anymore. You can call me Desi—that's what all my friends call me."

"Desi. You're right. We're not in school anymore, and I haven't been Professor Lupin for over a year now. You can call me Remus."

"Oh, I don't know if I can do that," she said with a little laugh, covering her mouth bashfully with her hand.

"Well, Mr. Lupin would do as a substitute until you're ready. Care to sit down?" he indicated the chair that Nymphadora had vacated earlier.

"Thanks!" she said, sliding into the seat. "I'd been hoping you'd have a minute to talk."

"Really? Is something wrong?"

"Oh—not with me. You just looked like you needed someone to talk to," said Desi.

"I did?"

She nodded slowly. "You did."

Remus smiled and looked down at the table, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "So it was really that obvious?"

"Not to everyone. Most people here are absorbed with the Weird Sisters—or with their dates—or with the people they want to be their dates. But I just came with some girlfriends, and I'm not interested in finding a date. And I'm not that excited by the band—I just came because my friends like them. So I've mostly been people-watching. And I saw you. And on my way over to say hello, I thought you looked like you had something troubling on your mind, and that you might need to talk. So here I am," she finished with another wide smile.

"Desi," said Remus shaking his head, "I do need to talk. I admit it. But I'm not sure if I can really talk about…what I need to talk about…with you. But I do appreciate the offer."

"It's all right, Mr. Lupin. Most people don't like to start off talking about what they need to talk about—they'd rather talk about something else first. So we can talk about anything. Quidditch. The weather. Popular music. Anything. And if you feel like talking about what you need to talk about later, you can. And if not, you don't have to. At least you'll have had a nice break from it to clear your head." She sat up straight in her chair and folded her arms on the table as if settling in for a lengthy duration.

"So this is how you became the best-liked girl in Hufflepuff house," said Remus with a little laugh. "Speaking of which—what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be asleep in your dormitory right about now? Professor Sprout wouldn't be too happy to know that her students are sneaking off school grounds to go to concerts." Remus felt he'd really have to inform Dumbledore of this breach of school security. If students could come and go so easily, then others might be able to as well. Harry could be in danger, even in the presumed safety of his dorm…

"I don't go to Hogwarts anymore," stated Desi, interrupting Remus' panicked train of thought.

"You don't? But—isn't this supposed to be your NEWT year?"

She nodded, looking a little sad. "It is. And it is for most of my old friends. But not for me. My parents didn't let me go back after my OWLs."

"Didn't let you go back?" he exclaimed, his panic from a moment earlier quickly transforming into anger. "How could they? Your agreement with them was that if you passed at least six OWLs, they would allow you to continue. And last I heard from you, you had passed not just six, but seven OWLs! This is outrageous!"

Desi shrugged her shoulders. "They were the ones paying my tuition—and I couldn't afford to start paying it myself. So when they decided that a dim-witted Hufflepuff like me didn't need any education beyond her OWLs, there wasn't really much that I could do." She didn't completely manage to hide the bitterness in her voice.

"They didn't really say that, did they?" asked Remus, aghast.

"Not to my face. They just haven't ever caught on to the fact that I can hear them perfectly well when I'm sitting in the next room over."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "This is horrible. You have so much to offer, Desi. Your parents are fools not to see it."

Desi smiled broadly, regaining her usual cheerfulness. "Thank-you, Prof…er, Mr. Lupin. Fortunately for me, some of my school chums' parents felt the same way you do. A few of them remembered how all the girls used to come to me to get their hair done, and they helped me get an apprenticeship at Vivian's."

"Vivian's?" asked Remus, raising one eyebrow.

"It's the premier salon and day spa on Diagon Alley," replied Desi, with a serious expression.

"No wonder I haven't heard of it. I'm not exactly the type to frequent day spas," he said, with a little chuckle. "And your parents didn't object to you working in that sort of shop? I'd think it would bother them to have you serving the same social circle that they move in."

"It did bother them a little—but it was better than having me mope around the house all day. And, unfortunately for them, they pulled me out of Hogwarts before I was old enough for them to marry me off like they wanted. So they let me take the job."

Remus was having difficulty digesting this new flurry of information. How could any decent parents possibly pull their daughter out of school on such a prejudiced whim? He couldn't fathom how any parents could care so little for their own child—especially when his own parents had fought so hard to get him the education that her parents had no qualms about denying her.

The most puzzling thing of all was that such heartless parents had ever managed to produce a daughter as optimistic and non-judgmental as Desdemona.

"Well… I do hope you're enjoying your apprenticeship," Remus began, trying to stay positive and diplomatic. But his alcohol-amplified emotions got the better of him. "But what the hell were your parents thinking? How could they treat you that way? It's outrageous! You have got to get out of that house, and away from their influence, as soon as you can."

"Oh, I have moved out," said Desi earnestly. "I turned seventeen last Spring, and my pay was already enough that I could afford a share of the rent with two of the other girls from Vivian's, and we all got a flat together."

"Excellent! That's the best possible decision you could have made at this stage. I have a friend from my own school-days at Hogwarts who made a similar choice, and moved out of his parents' home at a young age. In his case, it was even before he finished school. But it was the best thing in the world for him. I know it's hard to admit sometimes—but not all parents are really worthy of their children. It was very courageous of you to leave them."

Desi nodded quietly, but she didn't look that certain of herself. "Do you regret your decision?" Remus asked, gently probing for more information.

"No. I don't regret moving out," replied Desi. "I love living with my girlfriends." Remus began to suspect that some of her cheerfulness seemed rather forced. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who needed to talk tonight. But, like himself, she seemed to prefer any subject but the one that was bothering her. Maybe, if he kept her talking, she'd bring it up on her own.

"I'm glad to hear that you're doing so well—in spite of your family," he said.

"Thank-you. It means a lot that you approve of my choices."

Remus shook his head. "You don't need my approval. You don't need anyone's approval but your own."

"Still," she replied, "I like to have it. I think everyone likes to have the approval of people they respect and care about—whether they need it or not."

Remus suspected that the need for approval might be at the heart of both of their problems. Desdemona clearly still felt a lingering need for her parents' approval, and Remus was afraid that if he acted on his attraction for Nymphadora, then he would only end up losing her friendship and respect. But that was a part of his life that he definitely wasn't ready to share with his young friend. Instead, he decided to stick with a safe subject. "Well—tell me more about your work at Vivian's. What sorts of things do you do at a day spa?"

Desi smiled gratefully at his change of subject. "Vivian's offers a wide range of services, like massage, aromatherapy, cosmetic transfiguration, permanent hair vanishing—that sort of thing. But my specialty is hair styling and coloration."

"I don't know what half of those other services are—but hair styling and coloring I think I understand. How do you like it?"

"I love it, Mr. Lupin. It really is my calling. And I owe it all to you," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"To me? How exactly did I manage to help you find your calling? I've never even been into a salon," he said.

"It was all that extra tutoring you got me! Vivian's doesn't accept anyone as an apprentice unless they have passing OWLs in Potions and Herbology, and OWL scores of 'E' or higher in Charms and Transfiguration. I never would have gotten that 'E' in Transfiguration without the extra help you gave me. And transfiguration skills are _essential_ for quality hair coloration—and Madame Vivian herself has told me that I'm the most promising young colorist she's seen in years. So you see, Mr. Lupin, you really are the secret to my success," she said, giving him a glowing smile.

He echoed her smiled, but shook his head. "Now Desi, I'm not going to let you give me the credit for praise you earned through your own hard work. You earned Madame Vivian's completely on your own merits—I had nothing to do with it."

"Not directly, maybe. But you set me on this path. And now I'm just as happy as I would have been if I'd continued at Hogwarts. And I'm learning to make a very good living. Some of my chums from the salon think that I'm good enough that when I've finished my apprenticeship, I could open my own shop! Can you picture _me_ of all people as a business owner?"

"I always told you that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to. It's good to see that I was right," said Remus. "You must be quite a good colorist to earn the praise of Madame Vivian herself. So it's really done with transfiguration, is it? I always thought hair colorings were done with potions?"

"Oh, anyone can buy a cheap coloring potion at their local apothecary, or even brew one at home. But it's nowhere near the quality of a professional transfiguration coloration."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. I can spot a potion-job from a mile away. But with a good transfiguration job, the color looks just as natural as if the client was born with it."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Most men are pretty clueless about this sort of thing. We keep trying to bring in new male clients, but we haven't hit on any effective marketing schemes yet. It's hard to convince men that a salon can make them look better than those silly old home hair-cutting charms. And most men are positively terrified of color-treatments. Probably because they all think coloring is just those horrid potions—just like you thought. But with a bit of carefully applied transfiguration, I could take that gray right out of your hair. It would look perfectly natural—just like you were twenty again. I could even give you great discount. I certainly owe it to you, after all you did for me."

Remus could feel himself blushing again. His prematurely gray hair had been a very sensitive subject for him for some time now. A few years ago he had even tried one of those "horrid potions" to get the gray out, with disastrous results. His hair had come out gleaming an alarming orange-bronze. He'd been forced to cut it tight to his head, and wait for it to grow back in before it looked normal again. From then on he had simply resigned himself to his fate. "I don't know, Desi. I've gotten so used to my gray by now—I'd hardly feel like myself without it."

"I could be more subtle," she replied. "I could just tone it down a little—and artfully arrange it. I could make you into the perfect image of the dignified scholarly gentleman. You'd love the results—I promise."

Remus hesitated to answer. He didn't want to offend the girl, but he also didn't think that he could afford her services, even _with_ a discount.

Before he decided what to say, she spoke again. "I don't mean to pressure you. You don't have to decide right now. Just think about it, and if you ever decide you want to, just owl me at the shop and I'll get you an appointment right away. Okay?"

"Okay," he said with a nod.

"Now, while we're on the subject of hair coloring, do you know where your girlfriend gets her hair done? It's amazing how natural it looks even in that extreme color."

"My girlfriend?" said Remus, blinking in astonishment.

"Yes—I noticed her the minute I walked in. I'm always on the lookout for my competitors work. And hers is the most remarkable color that I've seen in ages."

Remus coughed uncomfortably. "She's…not my girlfriend. We're just friends."

"Oh!" said Desi. "Sorry. I shouldn't make assumptions like that."

"It's alright," said Remus. _Did we really look that much like a couple? She's the second one tonight to make that assumption._ "And you don't need to worry about her stylist stealing any of your business. She does her own hair."

"Really?" asked Desdemona, with wide eyes. "Is she a stylist?"

"No. She just has a certain natural advantage. You see, she's a metamorphmagus."

"Wow! I've never met a real-life metamorphmagus. I've read all about them, of course. When I was a little girl I used to fantasize about what it would be like to look like someone completely different whenever I wanted to. But I always thought that metamorphmagi generally tried to look as ordinary as possible, so that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. Your friend doesn't seem too concerned about that."

Remus grinned. "Not at all. In fact, I think she rather likes standing out in a crowd. She has the most amazing array of colors—most of them ones you would never find in the natural range of human hair-color. Sometimes—like tonight—she'll coordinate her hair to match her outfit. Other times she'll use it to reflect her mood—or even to play a joke on someone. Once, I caught her napping on the sofa, and her hair was morphing of its own accord, right along with her dreams. It was the most remarkable thing I've ever seen." He remembered that day very well indeed. She had come straight over after a night shift guarding the Department of Mysteries, and after consuming an extraordinarily large breakfast, she went up to the parlor and fell fast asleep on her favorite sofa. After cleaning the kitchen, he came up to find her curled up around a fluffy throw pillow—clutching it close to her heart. He had sat and watched her sleeping for nearly an hour before she woke up, and in that time her hair had fluctuated through more than a dozen different colors before settling on her favorite bubble-gum pink. She had awakened with a sweet smile on her face. When he told her what had been happening in her sleep, and asked her what she had been dreaming, she just blushed, and claimed that she couldn't remember.

The happy memory prompted him to glance back out at the dance floor, where she and the Quidditch player were still dancing. His face fell, and he unconsciously let out a sigh.

"I think she would be, if you asked her," said Desi, unexpectedly breaking into his melancholy reverie.

"Would be what?" he asked in confusion.

"Your girlfriend. I think she would be if you asked her."

"Wait—you think that she would be my girlfriend if I asked her to be?" he parroted.

"Yes," she said with a broad grin. "I've been watching the two of you off and on all night, and I'm pretty certain that she fancies you just as much as you fancy her."

"Do you really think so?" he said eagerly, leaning forward.

"Definitely."

"But… how can you tell? And how could you tell that I fancy her?" Remus felt slightly juvenile—like he was talking about a playground crush—but he was too interested in her opinion to care.

"Body language," said Desdemona with an air of confidence. "I'm a chronic people-watcher, and I know all about body language. They way you two were acting, I was sure you were already a couple. I was surprised when you said you weren't."

Remus wanted very much to believe her, but he still had his reservations. "If she fancies me so much, then why is she out there dancing with that bloke?" He said, pointing out at the dance-floor.

Desi followed his gesture out to where Nymphadora was dancing. "Oh, she's not really interested in him. Look how she keeps trying to edge away from him." They watched for another minute, as the Quidditch man kept trying to close in on her, and she kept moving away from him. During a crescendo in the music, the man made a sudden move to close the gap, and Nymphadora seemed to trip and stumble away from him while he clutched at his foot.

Desi laughed. "See! She just stomped on him!"

"She's always had a clumsy streak," replied Remus.

"Oh—this had nothing to do with clumsiness," said Desi. "She stomped him on purpose."

Remus' smile began to grow.

"I think," continued Desi, "that she's just dancing with him to be polite. Or maybe even to make you jealous. Girls do things like that, you know."

"So you really think she fancies me," he repeated, almost to himself.

"I would put money on it," she said.

"Another friend was telling me the same thing earlier, but I didn't believe him." Remus continued to stare out at Nymphadora, who had managed to put a sizable distance between herself and her pursuer, despite the crowded confines of the dance floor.

"You should have more faith in your friends."

"You're right."

The current song ended. As he watched, Nymphadora seemed to be excusing herself from Balfour's group, and from her Quidditch playing-admirer.

"Here she comes," said Desi. "I'd better go, and leave the two of you alone."

"But—what should I do?" asked Remus desperately. "Just, tell her how I feel?"

"That's one approach. Or you could just show her how you feel, by doing something impulsive and romantic. She seems like the type that would appreciate that sort of thing."

"Impulsive and romantic. That's…remarkably vague."

Desi laughed. "Don't worry. You'll think of something. I'd best be going now." She rose to her feet.

Remus turned back to her, trying to collect his wits. He couldn't let his own situation distract him from the fact that his young friend seemed to be having problems of her own. "Wait! Desi, are things… alright with you and your parents?"

She smiled down at him, but looked a little sad. "Not really. I had another huge row with them this week. That's why my friends brought me here, to cheer me up."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Lupin. You've helped me enough by letting me talk your ear off for a while. I can manage my parents. And I've got my friends to help."

Remus nodded. "Friends are one of our most valuable assets in life. I'm glad you've got some that you can count on."

"Me too. And if you change your mind about that color-treatment, just owl me."  
"I will."

"See you later, Mr. Lupin."

"Good-bye, Desdemona." And with that, she headed off into the crowd.

Remus' thoughts were still spinning in his head, but in a far pleasanter manner than they had been before his conversation with Desi.

And he had no time to collect those spinning thoughts before Nymphadora was back, plopping down into the chair across from him. She looked cross.

"So—I guess your promises don't mean much, do they?" she said.

"I'm sorry, Nymphadora. I was detained by a conversation with an old student of mine. I lost track of time."

"Humph. So for the second time tonight, you spend your time away from me flirting with your beautiful young admirers."

"I wasn't flirting with them!"

"Well, you were letting them flirt with you, which is almost as bad."

Her pouty expression reminded him quite suddenly of a conversation they had nearly a month earlier. Nymphadora had been teasing him that she knew someone who was romantically interested in him, and refused to tell him who it was. As the memory of that night flooded back into his mind, it occurred to him for the first time that she may have been talking about herself. _Good Lord, I'm a dunce sometimes. Time to salvage this while I still can_

"How about this, then. For the rest of the night, I won't let anyone flirt with me but you. Is that an acceptable arrangement?" Remus watched in delight as her cross expression blossomed into a smile.

"I think I could live with that," she replied. "And I don't really blame you for wanting to avoid Eddy's group, after the way his empty-headed fiancée treated you."

Remus shrugged. "I'm used to it by now."

"You shouldn't be."

"Just let it go. Don't let it ruin your night."

She sighed. "All right. I just don't see how you aren't bothered by that sort of thing. I'd never be able to keep my cool the way you do. And speaking of trying to keep my cool—I almost lost it out there when I was accosted by some bloke claiming to be a professional Quidditch player—like that would impress me. I let him dance with me once, to be polite, but when you didn't show up to run him off, he refused to leave. He actually started offering to show me his 'broom'. Uck! Men can be so disgusting."

Remus nodded in mock agreement—feeling delighted by her rejection of Wood's friend. "Yes, we certainly can."

Nymphadora laughed. "I didn't mean you, Remus. You're always a perfect gentleman."

"Except when I abandon you to the advances of vulgar Quidditch players."

"True. So you're always a perfect gentleman except when you've had too much to drink."

"That's more like it."

"I think I know a way you can make it up to me," she said with a smile.

"And what exactly is that?" Remus was feeling better with each passing minute. He was still somewhat apprehensive about the prospect of starting a fully-fledged romantic relationship after so many years of determined singleness, but in his current state of intoxicated excitement, he just didn't care.

She stretched out her hand to him. "Dance with me, Remus."

He took her hand in his. "Gladly." Together, they stood and turned toward the nearest set of stairs down to the dance floor.

"I must warn you," he said, "I haven't done this sort of dancing since I was younger than you are. I might just embarrass you."

"I'm not much of a dancer myself," she replied. "So we can be embarrassed together."

"It sounds delightful," he said, drawing closer to her. All the nervousness he had felt during their last conversation was gone. Right now, staring down at her smiling face, everything felt perfectly natural. Like it was meant to be.

Suddenly, a piercing screaming cut through the noise. "Help!" cried the screaming woman, from near the bar. "It's Sirius Black!"

Other women took up the screams of "Sirius Black!", and dozens of club patrons started running toward the exit in a mass of confusion that quickly spread from the bar to the dance floor.

Remus looked Nymphadora in the eye, and said the first thing that came to his mind. "Oh, shit!"


	10. Another Birthday Surprise

Chapter 9: Another Birthday Surprise

Remus watched in amazement as the panic spread like wildfire through the crowd. People were surging en masse toward the exits, and a flock of orange-robed security wizards were suddenly up on stage, stopping the music and herding the band toward the backstage area.

Wizards and witches all around them were running, shouting, screaming, and—most alarmingly—waving their wands in the air. The concert-goers had turned into a mob.

"It started over there," said Nymphadora in a serious tone, pointing at the far end of the bar. She strode in the direction she had pointed with an air of determined confidence. Remus followed, amazed by her sudden transformation. He had seldom seen her in full Auror-mode, and she was certainly there now. Her attitude of relaxed playfulness had almost instantly been replaced by a stiff stance of alert aggressiveness; the confused and panicked crowd parted miraculously before her stern gaze, and allowed them to pass almost unhindered.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! May I have your attention please!" With a quick glance over his shoulder Remus could see that one of the security wizards had taken center stage, and was using the Sonorus charm to make himself heard over the chaotic din of the frightened crowd. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Everything is under control! There is no cause for panic! Everyone needs to stop moving, and lower their wands! I repeat: stop moving and lower your wands! There has been a minor altercation in the bar, but everything is under control! Security is working to locate the source of the trouble, so that the guilty parties can be ejected! We should have the situation contained within minutes! We need you to cooperate, and remain where you are, with your wands lowered and sheathed! I repeat, remain where you are, and do not panic!"

While the security-wizard droned on, Remus continued to follow Nymphadora on her determined path through the crowd. Their eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign of Sirius. If he really had transformed back to his true visage, then they were in serious trouble.

Despite the security-wizard's requests, the crowd continued to shift and move uneasily about the club. Shouts of anger began, as patrons complained about stopping the concert. More of the orange-clad security officials had moved into the bar, and were circulating through the seating areas.

As they reached the bar, Remus caught sight of a trembling witch surrounded by three of the security-wizards. They moved in closer to hear what she was saying.

"It's like his face was melting!" she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "And suddenly he wasn't himself anymore! He was Sirius Black! I swear it was that monster Sirius Black!"

Everyone within earshot of her hysterical declaration once again started to talk and shout, many of them scuttling for the exit despite the security-guards attempts to restrain them.

"This way," said Nymphadora, leading him toward a nearby row of dark recessed booths.

Her instincts proved correct. As they passed the third booth, they heard a worried voice hissing, "Tonks! Tonks! Under here!"

Sirius was crouched under the table, his dark hair dangling loosely in front of his face. He looked terrified.

"What happened?" Remus whispered loudly, crouching down.

"I don't know. I was looking for my flask—and it was just gone! I thought I had more time left… I was looking for you… but I just…" he stammered.

"No time for talk. Cover us, Remus," said Nymphadora, pulling out her spare flask of Polyjuice potion and sliding under the table with Sirius.

Remus stood up straight, turning to face away from the table and glancing around nervously. He saw a security-wizard escorting the weeping witch who had identified Sirius toward the exit. Other security-guards were still circulating through the whole seating area, and one of them was headed right for their booth.

He felt a horrible knot of fear growing in his chest. The last time Sirius' freedom had depended on him, his own poor judgment in neglecting to take his Wolfsbane potion had nearly condemned his friend to his death. Once again, it was up to him to keep Sirius safe—and this time he wouldn't fail. He had to act fast.

His eyes scanned the crowd around him, and in just an instant he knew what to do. In between him and the security-wizard stood a group of nearly a dozen women wearing Stubby Boardman-sloganed tee-shirts. At the far end of the bar, almost obscured by the shadows, sat a pale-faced, black-clad man with long dark hair hanging limply to his shoulders.

Remus acted without hesitation. Ignoring the approaching security wizard, he ran toward the group of Boardmaniacs, and with one giant bound, he leaped onto a nearby table-top.

In an outlandishly exaggerated fan-boy voice he shouted, "Oh my God! It's Stubby Boardman!" and pointed directly at the shadowed figure at the end of the bar.

With a start, the woman all stared up at him. Then they turned, almost as one, to look in the direction of his pointed arm.

With an excited gasp, one of them cried, "Stubby!"

"It's Stubby!" another echoed.

With a determined surge, they all started rushing toward the long-haired man at the bar, their eager cries piercing the sudden lull. "Stubby!" "I love you Stubby!" "I'm your biggest fan!"

Other women in the bar and on the nearby dance-floor soon caught on to what was happening, and joined the Boardmaniacs in their enthusiastic advance on Remus' poor victim. Soon, the crowd had turned into another full-fledged mob. But this time instead of running away from the bar and toward the exits, the mob was running toward the bar, trying to get a glimpse of their pop-idol, Stubby Boardman.

The security-wizard that had been headed toward Sirius' booth was caught up in the surging crowd, and was trying desperately to stop its advance on the bar.

Remus smiled in satisfaction, and jumped back down to the floor. He watched the result of his ridiculous plan in delight. He could hardly believe it had worked. For now, at least, Sirius was safe. With a little luck, Nymphadora's plan-B would work and the Sirius sighting would be blamed on simple case of Boardman confusion.

"Hell of a stampede you've conjured up," commented a lilting voice from just behind him.

"Why thank-you, Padfoot," he replied as he turned to face the young blond figure of his once-more disguised friend. "But not nearly as spectacular as the one you incited a few minutes ago." Remus looked sternly into Sirius' eyes. The security wizard on stage was still droning out largely unheeded instructions, and the confused crowd milled around them in all directions, many of them calling for the Weird Sisters to return.

Sirius sighed, and looked sadly down at the ground. Nymphadora was standing protectively by his side, a grave look on her face. "So," said Sirius, "I guess this means the party's over."

"You better believe its over," said Nymphadora. "I didn't bring the extra flasks expecting to actually have to _use _them. I can't believe you could be so careless!"

Sirius' blue eyes glinted coldly, and his expression grew dangerous. He turned on Nymphadora. "Well maybe this wouldn't have been such a problem if you'd used those highly trained Auror-skills of yours to actually keep an eye on me, instead of obsessing over Remus the whole night!"

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, suddenly growing a few inches to stare menacingly into Sirius' eyes.

"Tonks, Padfoot! That's enough!" said Remus, stepping forward, ready to separate them if necessary.

Just then, Bill burst out of the crowd and careened up to them with Fleur in tow. "Thank God we found you!" He panted out of breath. "I was afraid something might have happened to you." Bill gave Sirius a meaningful look.

"Something nearly did," replied Sirius. "But thankfully, Moony here saved my ass."

"I think that _I_ had a little something to do with it, too," interjected Nymphadora resentfully.

"We both took care of the problem," said Remus. Sirius glared at Nymphadora, and Bill raised one eyebrow at the obvious tension between the two of them.

"Soooo…" said Bill, "what are we going to do now?"

"Now," replied Nymphadora, "we are going to go home."

Remus expected an outburst from Sirius at that point, but instead it came from Fleur. "Already? But what if zey start ze concert again? Ze night is still young—we should wait to see what will 'appen!"

"A woman after my own heart," said Sirius with a little smile. "Are you quite sure you want to stick with Bill? Because if you ever change your mind…."

"Colin!" said Fleur. "You are so droll!"

"Whether they let the concert start again or not, we can't possibly stay," said Nymphadora firmly. "Who knows how many people may have seen you?" she hissed more quietly to Sirius.

"No one was really paying us any mind until after Meredith started to scream," said Sirius. "Whatever happened to Meredith, anyway? Did either of you notice?"

"If she was a girl with dark hair and a red blouse, then she's gone. I saw security escorting her out of the club," replied Remus.

"Such a shame. And things were going so well between us," said Sirius with a sigh.

"I don't think that should be your primary concern right now, _Colin_," said Nymphadora sternly. "You should be more worried about who could connect your current face with your usual one."

"Like I said—no one was paying us any attention. Meredith was the only one who saw the change, and then I bolted. I don't think there's another soul in here who would make the connection."

"What in ze world are you talking about?" asked Fleur.

"Its complicated, sweetheart," said Bill. "How about I explain it to you after we figure out what we're going to do?"

"We're going," stated Nymphadora.

"We're staying," said Sirius.

"Remus? What do you think?" asked Bill, clearly not wanting to cast the deciding vote himself.

All eyes were suddenly on Remus, with both Sirius and Nymphadora clearly convinced that he would take their side. Remus hesitated. He was inclined to agree with Nymphadora that they should leave—but did they really have to go home so soon? Living with Sirius would be unbearable if his one night out was cut so abruptly short. He opened his mouth to speak, but caught sight of something that distracted him.

"Look!" he said, pointing back up at the stage.

Myron Wagtail, leader singer of the Weird Sisters, was striding back to center stage. He unceremoniously pushed the security-wizard spokesman aside, and turned to address the crowd.

"Hello, friends!" he began.

The milling crowd was immediately arrested in its movement, and scattered applause broke out.

"So," Wagtail continued, "I hear we had a little Sirius Black problem?"

Dozens of varied shouts of assent rose from the crowd, and the general agitation threatened to resume.  
Wagtail held out his hands in a supplicating gesture. "Calm down! Take it easy!" His laid-back entreaties actually produced an effect, and the crowd once more grew quiet.

"Here's what I think," said Wagtail. "I think that if Sirius Black wanted to come in here and murder us all, he would have done it already! He's had plenty of time!"

More cheers of assent burst from the crowd.

"So what the hell is everyone so frightened for?" he continued. The crowd roared in agreement.

"I think," said Wagtail, "that if Sirius Black really is here, he's here for the same reason the rest of us are: to have a good time!" The response to this was overwhelming. The cheers and applause were deafening, and the people still milling around the bar began to flock back onto the dance-floor.

Remus watched in bemusement as the crowd that only minutes earlier had been overwhelmed with fear and confusion were now being galvanized into a throng of eager partiers.  
"Good Lord!" said Sirius softly. "It really is Stubby Boardman! Look!"

Remus glanced back over to the bar, and watched in amazement as five of the security wizards cleared a path through a small crowd of Boardmaniacs to lead the slim black-clad figure out of the bar. Boardman looked decidedly annoyed.

"How did you know it was him?" asked Nymphadora.

Remus smiled, and let out a little laugh. "I didn't," he replied. "I thought I was just making it up!"

In the meantime, Wagtail had continued to rally the crowd. "So who here besides Sirius Black wants to have a good time?" he called. The screams of the crowd were overwhelming.

"Yeah! Yeah!" cried Wagtail, waving his fists in the air.

The rest of the band began to make their way back onto the stage, joining in the cheers of the crowd.

"And Black," continued Wagtail, "if you're really out there, mate, you're welcome to join the party! Now who's with me!" Everyone roared, including Bill, Fleur and Sirius.

"In fact," shouted Wagtail, "I think that I'm going to dedicate the rest of the night to everyone's favorite party crasher: Sirius Black!" A new wave of cheers erupted.

"Mr. Black—this one's for you!" he cried over the din of the crowd. The Weird Sisters had taken up their instruments, and, after a few gestures from Wagtail, they began to play.

Remus hadn't thought the crowd could get any louder, but it did. The band launched into the opening bars of their classic, "It's Time to Party Like the Muggles Aren't Watching," and the sound from the crowd literally shook the house. The frustrated security wizards had abandoned the stage, and resumed their usual posts around the perimeter of the club. It appeared that the show would indeed go on.

Remus watched as Sirius stared in wistful delight at the raging party on the dance floor—a party that had just miraculously been dedicated to him. Remus looked at the varied expressions of astonishment and excitement on the faces of his friends. None of them could have predicted what had just happened—that a whole crowded club of their peers would be cheering and dancing in honor of the wizarding world's most wanted fugitive. This was a birthday surprise that none of them could have planned.

He laid his hand on Sirius' shoulder, and with a smile, said, "I think you have your answer, old friend. This is _your_ party—it would be a shame to leave before you had a chance to enjoy it."

The ecstatic look on Sirius face was all he needed to know he'd made the right decision. After all—it was just for one night.

"You hear that?" declared Sirius, puffing up his chest. "Moony here has made the decision: we stay!"

Fleur clapped in delight, and Bill smiled. But Nymphadora drew up to Remus with a concerned look on her face. "But what if someone else saw him transform? What will we do?"

"If anything else happens, we'll take care of it. That's what friends do, isn't it?"

After a short pause, Nymphadora nodded. "You're right. Of course. You're right."

Sirius let out a whoop of delight. "Come on everybody! What are we waiting for? Let's go party!" He turned and led the charge to the dance floor, with Bill and Fleur following close behind.

Nymphadora still looked horribly nervous. Remus stepped closer to her, and lowered his head toward her to speak softly and still be heard over the din. "Have a little faith, Nymphadora. Your backup plans worked perfectly. Everything is going to be fine—I promise."

She nodded slowly. "I just wanted everything to be perfect," she said.

"It still can be. It will be," he said firmly. "Now, I believe," he extended his hand toward Nymphadora, "that I still owe you a dance."

Her little crooked smile slowly stole back across her face, and she reached out to take his hand. "I think I'd better take you up on that," she said.

With matching smiles, they followed their friends to the dance floor.


	11. Moony the Marauder King

Chapter 10: Moony, the Marauder King

It didn't take long for Remus' embarrassment over his dancing abilities—or lack thereof—to be replaced by far more pleasing feelings. The atmosphere of wild abandon on the dance floor was contagious, and he could feel the effects of the adrenaline and testosterone surging through his blood. The adrenaline was a natural consequence of the excitement of the occasion, and the testosterone was a natural consequence of his close proximity to Nymphadora.

For once, he didn't mind being closed in by the crowd. With everyone else smashing up against one another, he didn't feel at all self-conscious about the way she maneuvered to maintain almost constant physical contact with him while they danced. It was a very stimulating experience.

He soon lost track of time as the chaotic revelry continued to swirl around him. He occasionally caught glimpses of his other friends, with their smiling faces and flushed skin bearing testimony of their own elation. But the only truly solid and real thing for him in the swirling sea of exuberant humanity was Nymphadora—the light in her eyes, the broad smile on her face, and the extraordinary feeling of her body moving against his.

It was almost a shock to his system as the wild swirl of the dancing crowd abruptly slowed to an eddy when the band transitioned into a slow love-ballad. It took just a second to shake the disorientation from his mind, and realize what he needed to do next.

He wrapped one arm around Nymphadora's waist, and used his free arm to take her small hand in his, pulling her into a slow-dance. The look on her face confirmed his suspicion that there was no need to ask her permission first.

They swayed gently to the music, staring raptly into each other's eyes. _This is really going to happen, _Remus thought in amazed delight. _She and I are really going to to be _something_! I don't know quite what yet—but definitely something more than what we have been._ The thought both thrilled and terrified him. This was a step he hadn't dared to take in the ten long years since he and Shari had parted ways. He still wasn't certain that he was ready, but as he looked down into Nymphadora's eyes, and felt her arm wrapping tightly around his shoulder, he knew that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

They didn't speak a single word during the dance. There was nothing that needed to be said aloud—the feeling of their bodies swaying in gentle unison was all that they needed. Remus gradually lowered his head to rest his cheek lightly on the top of her head, where he could breathe deeply of her scent. After a moment she leaned her own head forward to rest against his chest, and pulled her hand free of his to wrap it loosely around his neck. He wrapped his free arm around her back, and slid his hand upward to lightly caress the back of her neck, and to run his fingers through her hair. Remus normally frowned on that sort of public affection, but he was finding that it seemed much less offensive when he was one of the parties engaged in the affection, instead of one of the ones forced to watch.

He was almost resentful when the song ended and they had to pull apart to join in the applause. It was a huge relief when the band launched into another ballad. But just as Remus was moving to resume his extremely comfortable slow-dance position, golden-haired Sirius was suddenly at his side, grabbing Nymphadora's hand and crying, "My turn!"

Remus stifled a cry of indignation as his friend spun Nymphadora away from him. He tried not to feel too upset—after all, he should be grateful that Sirius was staying nearby where they could keep a closer eye on him. And Nymphadora didn't seem to mind—she was laughing and smiling as Sirius pulled her into a dance. Remus couldn't really let himself be jealous—they were cousins, after all. And Sirius deserved his share of the fun on his birthday outing.

With a sigh, Remus reluctantly joined the other singles dotting the crowd of couples, rocking back and forth in time with the music and waiting eagerly for the song to end. But he kept his eyes firmly locked on Nymphadora.

Bill and Fleur were also dancing nearby, and Sirius gradually led Nymphadora in their direction. Once they were close enough to knock elbows, Sirius cried, "Partner swap!" and pulled Fleur away from Bill, pushing Nymphadora into her place. Everyone involved laughed amiably, and they turned the maneuver into a game, managing to swap partners back and forth three more times before the end of the lengthy song.

When the band transitioned into yet another ballad, Remus stepped hastily forward to reclaim Nymphadora for himself. Bill held on to Fleur, and Sirius was able to solicit a dance from a more-than-willing young lady who had been standing partnerless nearby. With Nymphadora back in his arms, and with her bright smile and shining eyes once more directed at him alone, Remus began to feel almost perfectly happy.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for coercing me into coming tonight. I'm very glad that I did."

"You're very welcome," she replied. "And thank you, for convincing me to stay after our little mishap, in spite of my better judgment."

"Sirius and James were very often able to get me to act against my better judgment, back in our Marauders' days at Hogwarts. It's something I haven't done much in the intervening years, and I'd forgotten what an immensely satisfying and worthwhile experience it can be."

Nymphadora laughed. "Well, is there anything else against your better judgment that you feel like doing tonight? You may as well keep it up—you're on quite a roll."

"Hmmmm. There may yet be. The night isn't over yet. I'll let you know if I think of anything."

"Yes, please do."

Nymphadora once more leaned against his chest, and he finished the dance in blissful silence. His brief pang of disappointment when the band launched into an upbeat tune soon vanished when they were rejoined by Sirius, Bill and Fleur. The five of them spent the rest of the concert dancing together, as a group, just as friends should.

At the conclusion of the concert the ovations were so uproarious that the Weird Sisters played two encores before finally leaving the stage. "Let's go for one more round at the bar while the crowd thins!" called Sirius over the din of all the club patrons making their way for the exits.

Their whole party readily agreed and followed him to the bar, crowded with other partiers getting one last drink for the road. To Remus' dismay, Sirius ordered up another round of potent Firewhiskey. His mind was addled enough as it was. But he chose not to complain—the night was winding to a close, after all.

"Before you all drink, I think I need to say a few words," said Sirius, once they had their glasses in hand. Remus stood next to the bar, his free arm wrapped casually around Nymphadora's waist. She leaned against him, lightly resting the back of her head against his chest. It was amazing how natural and comfortable their intimate posture felt.

"I have to admit that I made a terrible mistake tonight," Sirius continued, "and I need to apologize."

Remus wondered where Sirius was going with this one—was he making a serious apology, or was this just another one of his posturing speeches?

He was quite surprised when Sirius continued. "Moony, old friend," said Sirius, turning to him, "I said some pretty nasty things to you tonight. I even accused you of no longer being worthy of being called a Marauder. And I was wrong. You proved yourself every inch a Marauder when you saved my ass tonight—and in some of your subsequent actions." With those last words, Sirius gave Remus and Nymphadora a smug look.

Remus shifted uncomfortably at the unlooked-for attention, but he couldn't help but smile, and tighten his embrace around Nymphadora's waist.

"Moony," said Sirius, "not only are you as much a Marauder as ever, but I think you might be the best Marauder of us all. I never could have pulled off that crazy spur-of-the-moment plan the way you did. I am truly, truly humbled by your marauding skills. So I propose that we all raise our glasses to Moony, the Marauder King!"

Remus laughed at the unexpected accolade, and watched in amusement as all of his friends raised their glasses and repeated Sirius' toast. "To Moony, the Marauder King!" They took a drink of their Firewhiskey, and Remus looked down at the woman in his arms to see her looking back up at him with a glowing expression. This had been a _very_ good night.

"I 'ave just one question," said Fleur, addressing the group. "What is a Marauder?"

They all exchanged glances, and Sirius finally said, "I think you should answer this one, Moony. Tell Miss Delacour here what a Marauder is."

"Well," said Remus, "a Marauder is one of a group of friends who like to have fun, and sometimes get caught up in some very creative mischief-making. In other words, the Marauders are—us!"

"I couldn't have put it better myself," said Sirius.

"I think I have one final toast to finish the night," said Remus, raising his glass. Everyone else followed suit, and Remus spoke his toast. "To the Marauders," he said.

Bill, Sirius, Fleur and Nymphadora all stared at him with smiles on their faces. "To the Marauders!" they said together, and finished their drinks.

Bill and Fleur soon departed via Apparation. Bill claimed he was merely "escorting Fleur home," but the look on his face every time he glanced at his lovely young girlfriend made Remus think that he had a great deal more in mind than just "escorting" her. The club had nearly emptied by the time Remus and Nymphadora convinced Sirius to Floo home—none of them were in any condition to Apparate.

One by one they tumbled out of the dusty fireplace back into the parlor of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Nymphadora was the last to arrive, and Remus carefully positioned himself to catch her in his arms as she tripped out of the fire. He was finding that the more time she spent in his arms, the more reluctant he was to ever let her leave them.

"Blimey, I'm exhausted," said Nymphadora. "I feel like I've been up for two days straight."

Remus felt much the same, but he wasn't ready to turn in quite yet. That would mean letting Nymphadora go home, and he wasn't eager for that moment to come. _I wonder if we can convince her to spend the night in one of the guest rooms? Then at least we'd still be under the same roof._

"Now don't you two even think about falling asleep on me yet!" said Sirius. "It's my birthday party, and there is one last thing I want to do before it's over."

"Oh really? And what might that be?" asked Remus.

"It's a surprise," said Sirius. "I just have to run and get something."

"It better be good," said Nymphadora. "You're cutting into my beauty sleep."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and with a smile said, "I don't think Moony will mind you losing a little more sleep over us tonight—will you Moony?"

Remus just smiled sheepishly. Between the alcohol and the sleepiness he had lost all ability for witty retorts.

"I'll be back in a jiffy," said Sirius, leaving the room.

As Sirius disappeared down the hall, Nymphadora slowly detached herself from Remus, stretching and yawning. She tossed her jacket and purse on a side table, and idly made her way to the large mirror over the mantel. The fire had died down to nothing more than a last few flickering strands of orange desperately searching for sustenance in the smoldering pile of ash and ember. Just a handful of the many candles dotting the walls of the room had been lit. The dim, dancing light of the scattered flames swathed her in a complicated fabric of shadow and shimmer. She looked entrancing.

As she studied her face pensively in the mirror, Remus slowly ambled toward her. Her deep blue hair had maintained its spiky configuration in spite of the several hours worth of dancing and drinking that would surely have disheveled the coiffure of any lesser woman.

Remus paused about a foot behind her, and joined her in the silent contemplation of her reflection. He wondered what complex and mysterious thoughts were swirling in that fascinating mind of hers. It didn't take him long to find out.

"Guck!" she expelled in a guttural tone, sticking her tongue out at herself. "Has my skin looked this green all night?"

Remus opened his mouth for a few seconds, trying to think of a rational reply to her unexpected question. When none came to mind, he surrendered to the absurdity of the moment and burst into laughter.

She turned and grinned up at him. "What? Stop laughing!" she insisted, though she was struggling to hold back her own chuckles. "What's wrong with me wondering if I've been walking around looking ill all night? I'm beginning to think that blue isn't my color after all."

Remus took a deep breath to stifle his laughter, and grinned down at her sweet heart-shaped face. "You looked fantastic tonight, and you know it. And nothing is wrong with the blue."

"Why thank-you." She looked smugly up at him. "So maybe I did know it—but it's nice to have objective confirmation.

She turned back to the mirror, and they both resumed their contemplation of her image. "So," she said, "the midnight blue has your stamp of approval. What other colors do you like?"

"Nearly all of them," he answered without hesitation.

"Don't you have a favorite?"

"Not really. They're all you—that's what matters to me."

Her smile grew brighter and broader. "Surely you have a favorite. Everyone has a favorite. Molly likes the red, because it makes her feel like I'm another daughter. Kingsley likes the blonde—you'd understand that one if you'd ever seen the women he goes out with. Sirius prefers the various shades of blue. Bill told me he likes that light purple I do from time to time. The twins always like it when I wear my hair two-tone. Naturally, Moody likes it black, because he says it actually makes me look like a proper Auror. And Dumbledore once told me that he prefers the pink—my own personal favorite. At least for now," she said, squinting in concentration at her reflection as her hair lengthened and lightened into a short pink bob that danced alluringly around her jaw.

She turned back to him, and once more looked up into his eyes. He felt weak and wobbly from drink and exhaustion—and from that tantalizing expression on her face.

"Nymphadora," he said softly, reaching up one hand to brush the hair back from her sparkling eyes and leaning in closer to her face. "I truly don't have a favorite. I don't care what hair you're wearing, or what eye-color you've chosen for the day, or whether you're in one of your battered old tee-shirts or in fancy dress robes. No matter what you look like, you are always beautiful to me."

Her grin softened into something sweeter, and more sincere. He continued to rest his hand against the side of her face, holding back her hair. She echoed his gesture by reaching up with one of her hands to gently caress his cheek. They stood there like that for a few endless moments, touching each other softly, their faces mere inches apart.

Remus felt content to simply drink in the luminous beauty of her face, and to savor the warmth of her touch. Nymphadora, however, was not so content.

She arched an eyebrow at him, and asked, "So, are you going to kiss me, or what?"  
Remus' eyes widened in nervous excitement. Did she really want him to? Right now? Should he?

Unfortunately Remus had no time to fully process her request in his alcohol muddled brain, for at just that moment Sirius came bounding into the room wildly brandishing a bottle of wine.

"I found it!" he declared. "The last of the good stuff!"

Remus hastily dropped his hand and stepped back from Nymphadora, at which she let out a frustrated huff.

"Oh—am I interrupting something?" asked Sirius with an expression of mock innocence.

"Apparently not," said Nymphadora, pointedly staring at Remus.

Remus couldn't help but feel that somehow he had once again managed to muck things up.

Fortunately, Nymphadora turned her ire on Sirius instead of himself. "More bloody booze?" she exclaimed. "Haven't you got us pissed enough for one night?"

Sirius glared at her. "This, little cousin, is the second to last bottle of grandfather's private collection. This is the really, really good stuff. The stuff that would cost more than three-hundred galleons if you were to buy it at a shop."

"Then maybe you should save it for a time when we can all appreciate it a bit more?" Nymphadora suggested.

"No!" insisted Sirius. "It's my bloody birthday party, and if I want to end it by drinking the good wine, then that's how we're going to bloody well end it!" He was beginning to sound like an eight year old throwing a tantrum.

Remus stepped forward, ready to play the peacemaker. "Maybe just one glass, Sirius, and we'll save the rest for tomorrow?"

Sirius calmed down, somewhat. "Yes. Moony understands. I just want to share one more glass of wine with my two dearest friends before we all turn in. Is that too much to ask?"

Nymphadora sighed. "Fine. Just one glass." She walked over to her favorite sofa, and slumped down into its soft cushions.

Sirius, grinning once more, went over to the liquor cabinet in the corner to pull out some wine glasses.

Remus followed Nymphadora to the sofa, and hesitantly sat down beside her. He hoped she wouldn't still be upset with him. Much to his relief, as soon as he was beside her, she slid over to close the gap between them, and leaned her head on his shoulder. All Remus could do was smile mutely at this clear sign of her affection for him. Soon, Sirius had poured each of them a glass of wine, which he handed round before taking a seat in the nearest armchair. Remus raised his glass and took a sip. It really was very good—but paying three-hundred galleons for it would be a crime.

He and Nymphadora sat in peaceful silence, slowly sipping their wine while Sirius began to regale them with familiar tales of the old Marauders' exploits back at Hogwarts. As they finished their wine, Remus carefully placed the glasses on the end table, and shifted himself deeper into the sofa's corner where he could partially recline. Nymphadora followed suit, curling her legs up underneath her, and laying her head across his chest as he wrapped his arm around her.

Sirius appeared to have refilled his own glass, and was now droning on about his adventures as a stray dog living on Majorca during his time on the run. Remus wasn't paying much attention—although his hazy brain did take a moment to wonder why so much of the story seemed to revolve around "a pretty little bitch" in heat, but perhaps he was better off not knowing. His main focus, however, was on the amazing woman falling asleep in his arms. He watched as her eyes slowly closed, and listened carefully as the pace of her breathing got slower and deeper. It was the most peaceful and comfortable sensation that he had felt in a very long time. And soon, he began to drift off to sleep himself.

"Wat out fer the damn Bludger," Nymphadora slurred semi-coherently, shifting suddenly and waking Remus from his sleep. He blinked his blurry eyes at the sunlight filtering through the tattered old curtains, and tried to get his bearings. He was still slumped in the corner of the comfy sofa in the parlor, with Nymphadora stretched out along the length of the sofa, her head resting in his lap. Despite her mutterings, she appeared to be in a deep state of sleep, dreaming. Her hair had changed to a shade of light brown, and was tumbled over her face. He lightly brushed it back, and tucked it behind her ear as she mumbled, "The Snitch… Snitch…idiot… ermmm." She rolled slightly so that her face was now turned up to him. He smiled. She looked so young and innocent while she was asleep.

A loud, grunting snore diverted his attention across the room. Sirius lay on the floor, curled up on the rug in front of the fire. Remus allowed a small laugh to escape his lips. He'd seen Snuffles in that exact position many a time, but had never seen Sirius attempt it in his human form. _That's what you get for drinking too much of the "good stuff," old friend._

Remus glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. His eyes widened in surprise at the time. Surely he couldn't have slept _that_ late, could he? His stomach let out a gurgling rumble, and Nymphadora shifted restlessly again. He decided it was time to rouse her, and make some breakfast.

"Nymphadora… Nymphadora…" he said softly, stroking her cheek.

Her whole body jolted stiffly as she took in a sharp breath. "What? What?" she said, blinking and shaking her head. At last, her confused gaze rested on Remus' face. "Remus? What are you…? Where are we?" she asked.

"We fell asleep in the parlor, remember?" he prompted with a reassuring smile.

"Oh… yeah. Sirius and his damned bottle of wine." She struggled to sit up. "Oh God, my head!" she said, covering her eyes with one hand, and bracing herself up with the other. "I am never going drinking with Sirius again!"

"How about I go down to the kitchen and make us a pot of strong black coffee?" suggested Remus.

"Yes, please."

He stood to go, and she asked, "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's about half-past eleven," he replied.

She took in a sharp gasp of air. "No! You're kidding me!"

"The clock's right there," he said, gesturing nonchalantly. He wondered what the trouble was—she didn't have work today, or any assignments from the Order, as far as he knew.

"Oh no, no, no, no, noooo!" she moaned, her face in her hands.

"What is it? Have you missed something important?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said. "But I almost wish I had. I've got a twelve-thirty lunch appointment with my mum. She wants to take me shopping in Diagon Alley. If I'd slept through it I'd just have to apologize, but since I'm already awake, I feel obliged to rush and actually get there on time. Uhhg!"

This wasn't at all what Remus had expected. He'd been hoping to share a leisurely breakfast with her, and maybe even spend the rest of the day with her. "Can't you just skip it, and tell her later that you slept through it?"

She shook her head violently. "Oh no. I can't lie to my mum—ever. She can always tell. It's this awful sixth sense she has."

"But you must lie to her all the time about the Order."

"No. I've told her enough of the truth to keep her satisfied. But I think she's beginning to have her suspicions about Sirius being involved—she just hasn't confronted me about it yet. Sometimes she'll let me get away with holding back part of the truth—but I can never get away with an outright lie. Never. Ooof!" she huffed as she hauled herself to her feet. "I really have to get going."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay long enough for me to make some coffee?" asked Remus, as Nymphadora pulled her jacket on and collected her bag from the table where she'd dropped it the night before.

"Can't spare the time. My mum's always been very strict about punctuality, and the last thing I need today is one of her lectures. Which means I have about…" she glanced at the clock again, "fifty minutes to shower and primp and get to Diagon Alley for our lunch together." She stepped over Sirius' still prone and snoring figure on the floor.

"It'll only take five minutes—I promise. You really look like you need some caffeine." Remus didn't know what he could accomplish in another five minutes with her, but he felt desperate to keep her from leaving so soon.

"Do I really look _that_ hungover?" she asked, pausing to glance in the nearby mirror. With a sharp gasp of surprise she raised a hand to touch the limp tendrils of mousey-brown hair flopping shapelessly against her neck.

"My God!" she uttered. "I _really_ must have been drunk to let it go back to _this_!"

As he studied her expression of dismay, Remus had a sudden flash of insight. "Nymphadora?" he asked. "Is this … how should I put this? Is this your… original hair? The hair you were born with?"

"Unfortunately, yes," she replied with a heavy sigh as she turned away from the mirror. "Is it any wonder that I avoid going brunette, when this," she pointed at the brown hair, "is what I have to look at every time I'm exhausted, or sick, or drunk? It's hideous."

"It's not hideous," said Remus, thinking that with a wash and a good brushing the brown hair would look perfectly lovely.

"Yes, it is!" said Nymphadora adamantly, before turning to stride out of the room. "If Mum sees me like this she'll know for sure that I was up to no good last night. I really, really need that shower."

Remus quickly followed her. He couldn't let their adventure end this way—not after all that had happened last night. He couldn't just let her disappear without doing something more. He had to somehow reassure himself that the feelings he'd seen in her eyes were real.

She reached the front door and began unlatching it with Remus right behind her. As she opened the door to step outside, she said over her shoulder, "See ya later, Remus."

"Wait," he said urgently, grabbing one of her wrists.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, turning to glare at him with annoyance. "What is wrong with you this morning?"

Remus blinked, not knowing what to say. "It's just … I just…" He just needed to shut up. More often than not talking only got him into trouble. Now was not the time for more talk—now was the time for action. It was time to be a Marauder.

In that instant he forgot all about his sweat and wine stained clothes, his not-so-fresh morning breath, and even the thirteen year gulf that separated them. All he knew was that there was one last thing he needed to do before he let her walk out that door.

Without a second thought, he reached forward to take her face in his hand, and kissed her.

As his lips met hers she let out a small squeak, and her whole body went stiff. He was about to pull back, thinking she was upset, when she suddenly leaned into him, grabbing his neck for support and pressing her mouth eagerly against his, while the rest of her body seemed to go limp.

As excited as he was about her sudden enthusiasm, her erratic wobbling was making it difficult to kiss her properly. And his neck was getting a little sore with her hanging off it. In fact, he was afraid she was going to fall down. He released her wrist to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her back upright from her slumped posture. Once he had succeeded in steadying her, he allowed himself to savor several lingering caresses of his lips against hers, and reveled in her sensuous response. _Great Merlin, this feels fantastic!_ At last he pulled back to look down into her face.

Her eyes were wide and staring, and her face flushed. She still felt as if she was about to collapse.

"Are you all right?" he asked, trying once again to hold her upright.

A small, crooked smile played across her face, and a silly nervous giggle escaped her lips. "Yeah," she said dreamily.

"Are you sure you're well enough to Apparate?"

"Apparate? Why would I want to App… Oh shit!" she exclaimed, trying to regain her footing. "Lunch with Mum! I can't believe I still have to go to lunch with Mum. And now I'm going to be late for certain!"

A look of sweet, childish dismay had swept across her face, and Remus began to grin with the certainty that she was not upset that he had made her late, but that she had to leave at all. The way she continued to cling to him was a pretty fair confirmation that he had assessed the situation correctly.

"It's all right, Nymphadora. Just take your time. A little lecture on punctuality never killed anyone. Just go and try to relax, and have a good afternoon with your mother."

She nodded slowly, releasing her grip on his shoulder. "When can I … when should I… can I come back tonight?" she asked.

_Yes! Yes! Yes! _He wanted to shout. But after taking a deep breath, he reconsidered. What they needed now was some mature, rational conversation. Not another hung-over, exhausted, semi-coherent encounter.

"Tonight," he said, "we should probably both get to sleep early. I think we both need it."

Her look of extreme disappointment sent a small thrill of excited happiness through his body, prompting him to hastily add, "But, I am very much looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she said with a brightening countenance. "Yes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night! I can't make it over until tomorrow night. If that's okay with you?"

"Tomorrow night sounds excellent. I'll be waiting for you."

"Waiting." She wore another crooked smile, and released another nervous giggle. "Waiting for me. Lovely."

"I'll see you then," he said, slowly stepping back and carefully releasing her from his supportive embrace.

"See you—whoa!" As she stepped back from him she missed the step down from the door. He leapt forward and caught her shoulders before she hit the pavement.

"Clumsy oaf!" she exclaimed. "Me… not you!" she added, forcing herself back to her feet.

He once again released her, and asked, "Do you need me to walk you to the Apparation point?"

She was blushing fiercely, and shook her head. "No! No—really. I'm fine. Just wasn't watching, that's all. I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow night. Bye!" She flicked him a short wave, and turned to stride purposefully toward the nearby alley used by the Order for discreet Apparation. As she neared it, she managed to catch her foot on an invisible obstacle and careen into the brick side of a neighboring house.

After catching herself with her hands, she turned back with another wave to call, "I'm fine! Really. I'm fine. I'm just… going. Now." At which point she hastily disappeared into the alley.

Remus couldn't help but laugh. For the first time in his life, his kiss had literally made a woman weak in the knees.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd just gotten himself into—but he knew that after all these years, he was finally ready. Whatever happened, he could handle it. After all, he was the Marauder King.

With a smile on his face, and a bounce in his step, he began humming a jaunty tune, and went back inside. It was time to start the new day.


End file.
